Traveller: The 61st Hunger Games
by CelticGames4
Summary: "Maybe our flaws are just actually just uniqueness misunderstood."
1. Prologue

-Elizabella Pavlov, Head Gamemistress-

 _Two weeks before the reapings_

I'm staying late for another day of work. Papers litter my desk, untouched and unorganized. I have never felt this stressed in my entire life, that's for sure. Eventually, I just threw everyone out of the room, requesting just a few moments of some goddamn peace and quiet.

That's exactly what I have now. Thank goodness.

I lay my head down on my desk, absolutely exhausted. It was an early morning, and a terribly long day. And the worst part is that coffee is completely off-limits to me. Ugh. I'm amazed that I made it this far.

But, of course, there is still plenty more work to do before I get home for the evening. The longer I sit here with my head down, the later it'll be until I can leave. Ugh. I only allow myself five minutes like that. After that, I stand up and head to the bathroom connected to my office to freshen up. And, while I'm there, I pee too. Ugh.

So.

Much

 _Peeing_.

I wash my hands and look at myself in the mirror. I look pale and stressed, much older than thirty-five. God.

I use some water to smooth down my pastel pink hair, which was sticking up everywhere considering I chose to leave it down for once today. I touch up some of my make-up, making sure my skin is perfectly powdered, rub at my lime green contacts until they finally decide to settle the fuck down, and, of course, straighten my posture. Then I look at my reflection and tell myself firmly, "You can do this." After all, this certainly isn't my first rodeo. It's actually my third go at it. This time is just a hell of a lot more stressful than the others have been, that's all. Maybe I'm just… Going crazy. Yes, maybe I'm just going absolutely crazy. Haha, they say this job does that to you!

Alright, alright, now it's back to work. I straighten my posture again, as much as my back complains, and open my office door again. My intern, Deck Kozart, is still standing there, his black eyes watching me intensely from behind glasses as thick as his father's as he runs a hand through his red, white, and black-streaked hair.

"Sorry for the delay. Please come in," I tell him, entering my office and sitting down.

"It's no problem at all!" the twenty-year-old chirped. He was wearing a black sweater vest, white dress shirt, and red tie. The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up enough to show off the tattoos on his forearms, black spades on his right and red hearts on his left.

"You wanted to ask me something?" I ask.

"Oh, yes! If it's not too much to ask, Mrs. Pavlov, I was wondering if you could look over this academic paper I've been working on. Only if it's not too much stress, though! It can always wait."

I feel like I want to cry when he hands me the pages. My eyes brim with tears as I think about just how much goddamn work has to be done in such little time.

"Um…" he looks concerned. "Mrs. Pavlov?"

"I said you can call me Bella," I say quietly, voice quivering slightly. "I'm sorry, I just have so much that needs to be done."

"Oh. That's alright then, I can take it back and wait for a better time-"

"No! You're _not_ taking it back!" I tell him strictly, my voice taking on an edge. "I'm going to do it all and nothing is going to _stop_ me!" I slam my fist on the table at the word stop, causing him to jump.

"Um-"

My anger fades as tears roll down my cheeks. "I just have so much stupid work to do and I can't even have coffee! How am I supposed to file all these papers by ten!? The Arena is barely halfway finished!" I can't help sobbing. I feel a hand rub my back softly as Deck looks awkward.

"Don't worry, we're still on target, Bella. It'll be okay. I'm here to help, after all, and the other Gamemakers are hard at work too."

I sniffle and wipe my eyes. "I know." I grab a tissue and blow my nose. Then, I laugh at how ridiculous I am. "I'm sorry Deck. It's a crazy time right now."

He laughs and nods understandingly. "Yeah, I'm sure it is. Feeling better?"

"Yes, thank you." I pick up the paper and read the title.

 _The Unusual Case of Atticus Hollow_

"Atticus Hollow… He was… A tribute during one of your mother's Games?"

"Her first Games," Deck says proudly. "Also the Games I was named after."

"Oh, I see. Is Atticus your favorite tribute from that Games?"

"No, I am and always will be a Gio fan."

"Well, it's a good thing that he won then." My eyes skim down the first paragraph, looking for exactly what he thinks he's going to prove about the District Ten male from that Games.

" _While his allies suspected him to be a werewolf, I believe that he hid behind their alias to hide something much more sinister:"_ Hm, interesting thought, I wonder what it could be. _"that he's actually a vampire."_

That gets me to laugh. Like, a long, good laugh. "You spent time of your life writing this paper to prove that Atticus Hollow is a vampire?"

Deck laughs and shrugs. "I love Games theory. I always try to challenge myself by writing about things that are near impossible to prove."

"You're going to convince me that he's actually a vampire?"

"If I did a good job, you'll at least ponder the possibility of it."

I grin as I put the papers aside. "I'll read over this tonight. I can't say I'm not interested in it though. Now, will you help me start sorting these papers?"

Deck grinned. "Of course!"

And just like that, we're back to work.

.

The second I step inside my house I want to jump in bed and never get out. My back and feet are absolutely killing me, not to mention I'm so tired. God, I hope I can actually get some sleep tonight.

When I enter the house, it's quiet. Of course. I'm sure all the kids are already bathed and tucked in. On my way through the dark living room, I accidentally step on one of my son's robotic tin robots. Out of instinct, I pick it up and whisper, "Sorry Mr. Robot," before remembering that nobody was there to care that I didn't apologize to the piece of metal. I sigh a bit. Maybe I really am going crazy.

I go into Mazurka's room. She's my oldest daughter, at ten years old. When she hears my footsteps approach, she sits up in bed.

"Mom!" she says. "Hi."

"Hi Sweetie." I kiss her forehead. "Go back to sleep now, you have school tomorrow."

She pouts, but rolls over.

Next, I go into the room shared by the two middle children. Pavane, the second-oldest at eight, doesn't even stir. I kiss the top of her head and she doesn't move. Tessitura, the second-youngest at five, rolls over when I kiss her head, but doesn't wake up.

Last, I check on our youngest, three-year-old Brick. He sleeps soundly in his little racecar bed, but when I kiss the top of his head his brown eyes flicker open.

"Mama," he says tiredly, sitting up and trying to rub his eyes.

"No honey, lay back down."

He holds his arms up for me to pick him up, and as much as I'd rather just collapse and sleep on his floor, I pick him up. He's heavier and heavier every time I do this. Luckily, it doesn't take very much rocking to get him back down.

Finally, I head to my room. I notice that the bed is empty, which means that Lydian must be up still. I pee and change into PJs, washing my face and taking my contacts out before trudging slowly to his workshop. Sure enough, he's there, lamps on as he works on an oboe.

"Hey," I say quietly.

"There she is!" he says softly, his brown eyes, free of their green contacts, lighting up. He crosses the room to kiss me. "How was work today dear?"

"It was fine. A typical day at the Complex. How about you?"

"I've been fighting with this oboe all day." He sighs. "I wish my father were here. He'd know what to do."

"Don't worry, you'll figure it out." I wrap my arms around his neck, or well, as much as I can reach. "You've done a great job upholding the family business." My husband, the youngest of three, took control of his family's business, Pavlov Instrument Repairs. It's the job of a craftsman, but that's what my husband is.

"Aw, thanks, my love. How was Staccato today?"

"I had a meeting first thing this morning and he just wouldn't settle. Other than that he's been asleep all day."

I laugh a little bit as Lydian crouches down to kiss my stomach. "Stop that," I say quietly. "I don't want him to move around all night. I'd actually like to get some rest."

"Then you should get to bed, Dear."

"Yes, and so should you." Lydian loves to stay up till the wee hours with the instruments he works on, but it's not healthy for him. "Come to bed." Translation: _I love you but you don't have a choice in this matter._

He sighs, but reluctantly turns off the lamps and heads back to the bedroom with me.

"Good night, Love," he says quietly.

"Night," I say back, my eyes shutting closed. I don't even care that I have to sleep on my back. Right now, I could probably sleep standing up if I had to.

I don't even open my eyes when Lydian kisses my stomach. "Be good to your Mama tonight, Staccato," he murmurs, causing me to laugh a little bit as I doze off, hoping that my sleep will last at least two hours uninterrupted.

Yup, just another day. And I'm sure tomorrow will carry the same morning sickness, wild emotions, swelling feet, and general chaos.

I can handle it, though.

I'm a toughie. And I'm going to make a spectacular Games.

~.~.

 _ **A/N: HYPE HYPE HYPEEEEE**_

 _ **Welcome, welcome, one and all, to my thirtieth story on fanfiction and third partial SYOT, Traveller!**_

 _ **First thing's first: Yeah, so maybe Traveler's spelled with one L. Actually, the spelling I'm using here is not the American spelling. Also, I'm aware that the song it's named after only has one L in it. Oh well. I like how it looks with two Ls for some reason.**_

 _ **Also, yeah, this story is named after a song (an amazing song) that is also partially the inspiration for the Arena! It's called Traveler and it's composed by David Maslanka. Really, really great piece of music.**_

 _ **This story is a Celticverse story, which means it's heavily tied into my other stories for the 36**_ _ **th**_ _ **, 41**_ _ **st**_ _ **, and 42**_ _ **nd**_ _ **Games, but you don't have to read those to understand this.**_

 _ **So, as I said before, this is a partial SYOT! I have eight characters and I need the other sixteen to come from you guys! I've already gotten so many amazing characters and I can't wait for more! But, because it's a partial, ONE OF MY TRIBUTES WILL WIN. Just wanted to make that clear from the start. Also, my tributes are the only ones that will have POVs, until the Final 8. I hope you'll consider submitting even though your tribute will die because, this is a story that will definitely finish and update relatively frequently. Trust me, I will make sure your tribute is well-loved and well-used. I'm super optimistic about this story, I just have a feeling it's going to be my best work yet and hope to have as many people as possible along with me for the ride! So please, check out my profile and consider sending me a character! :D**_

 _ **Also, escort spots are open and they will close when I'm ready to write the reaping chapter for specific Districts, so if you're interested the first one I need would be a D1 escort!**_

 _ **This was just a short little prologue to get you all accustomed to my style, and if you haven't read my first-person stuff before, there you go!**_

 _ **So, this story has a sponsor system and yes, it is the same one as Danzón! So hey, there's another perk, if you read and answer CQs for this story you can use those points on any tribute in this story or in Danzón (or, you know, in Voices, haha). Also, my sponsoring DOES effect placements, so it's something you'll want to consider for your tributes in any of my sponsor stories. You can also get more points by reading Voices, Instinctive Travels, Once More Unto the Breach, Masque, Silhouettes, and Danzón.**_

 _ **So, like Danzón, you get:**_

 _ **6 points for a favorite**_

 _ **4 points for a follow**_

 _ **5 points for each review**_

 _ **5 additional points for answering the Chapter Question on each chapter. To get the five extra points you have to answer every part of the CQ.**_

 _ **I keep track of the points, so you don't have to worry about it. When we get to the Games I'll put updated scores on each chapter. If you have any questions about anything or want to reserve a spot PM me! Also, since it's a google form, Guests are welcome to submit! This is first-come, first-serve.**_

 _ **Yay, first Chapter Question time!**_

 _ **CQ: There have been some hints to the Arena, but I want to know your predictions as to what it could possibly be! So, Arena predictions? Go wild!**_

 _ **We sincerely welcome you to Celtic Airlines and thank you for flying with us! In case of an emergency, life jackets and oxygen masks will be provided. Please locate the nearest exit now. Your flight attendants Ponty, Dawson, Vardaman, Diesel, Monterey, Beo, and Trekker will be around to with complementary peanuts and beverages. Please fasten your seatbelts and prepare for takeoff. Enjoy your flight!**_


	2. The Cheater and the Cheated

**Pre-Reaping**

-Neapolitan Hightower, 18, District 1-

 _6:30 P.M._

"You're eating awfully slow," Mama says, raising an eyebrow at me. "Are you nervous?"

"Don't be nervous, Ne!" Venetian chirps, happily putting food into his mouth. "You're going to be amazing in the Games! You're going to win and live in the Victor's Village and it's going to be AMAZING!"

I laugh a little at my little demibro, reaching over to ruffle his hair. He's so goddamn excited for me. I mean, I'm excited too of course, but… He may be more excited than I am. It wouldn't surprise me.

"I'm not nervous. Just taking my time to enjoy my last home-cooked meal for a while."

Mama laughs. "You're going to have food in the Capitol that is much better than I could ever cook for you, honey." Her blue eyes sparkle with pride, which causes me to sit up a little taller and smile. I want to make her proud. I want to make them all proud. I want to prove that it was worth it for them to adopt me.

"But it won't be made with love," I say, causing everyone to laugh. Well, everyone except Valley. Valley, my fourteen-year-old sister and Venetian's twin, isn't exactly happy about all this. She's just bitter that she hasn't done anything amazing like her big brother has. Hey, I had to live so many years of my life with the twins taking our parents' affection, now it's my turn. Valerian would probably feel the same way, but after he came out as a demiboy he got a lot of attention and pampering too. Valley probably just feels left out, her little angsty fourteen-year-old heart flaming with envy. She'll get her time to shine when she's older, I know it. But now, it's my turn.

"I suppose you're right," Mama says.

"Besides, eating too fast will just make me sick when I go to train tonight." Who could forget the traditional Academy lock-in? The one night of the year when the selected volunteers get District One's largest, best Academy all to themselves. Of course, they can invite whoever they want to join them, but still it's definitely one of the best nights of the year. Some invite all the trainees for a training fest, some invite friends to just party, some invite trainers and Victors to help them with strategy. There really are no rules about it. Only an idiot would throw away their last night drinking and partying, though.

"You're right about that," she says. We eat in silence after that, but it's comfortable. Well, except for Valley glaring at me.

Once I finish, I put my plates in the sink.

"I can do the dishes," Mama says, smiling kindly. "You enjoy your last few hours here at home before you go to the Academy."

I smile. "Thanks Mama." I kiss her cheek.

"Hey Ne," I glance over at my other parent. "C'mon," he says, and I know where he's going. I quickly follow, outside to the porch.

Puma sits down on the swing, and I sit next to him. I grab his arm and lay my head on his shoulder. I call my other parent Puma because calling them by their first name, Beam, was too weird a thought for me as a kid. Still is.

For a while, we swing in silence. Back and forth, simple and slow. Just like always.

"I remember sitting on this very same swing, holding you in my arms, when you were just a baby."

"Tell me the story of my adoption again," I say quietly. I make him tell it pretty much every time we're out here, but I just love to hear it.

He laughs quietly. "Alright, alright." He strokes my hair softly as the warm, familiar breeze of summer blows past. It smells like rain, but I'm not going to let the weather spoil this. "It was just a sunny summer day, and I had been asking your mother about adopting a child for a while. I just knew that the two of us would make good parents. I knew it in my heart."

"You were right." I always say something along those lines when they tell the story.

Puma laughs and ruffles my hair a bit. "Thanks kid. Anyways, I finally convinced her and we got a crib and baby-proofed the house. I was getting so excited about it. We painted your nursery purple and pink and blue. That day, it was really happening. I knew it was really happening. We went into the orphanage and knew that we wanted a baby. There were lots of babies there to choose from. Your mother had no idea where to start. I, however, well…" he chuckles. "I was immediately drawn to you. You were sleeping, but you just looked so calm and peaceful. You were holding a rattle in your little hand and something about you… We just couldn't say no to."

"Yeah?"

"Of course. Then, you opened your eyes. That's when Lady- I mean, your mother- was sold. We just couldn't resist the baby with the night sky in his eyes."

I smile and bury my face in his arm.

"So, we brought you home."

We both say the last line of the story together, as it's always the way they choose to end it.

"And we've been nothing but happy ever since."

Puma smiles and strokes my hair. "From the time you were just a baby, I would bring you out here and sit and swing with you. When you would fuss, I'd bring you out here to calm you down. I fed you your bottle here. When you had bad dreams, we'd always come out and swing. Remember that?"

I laugh a little. "Yeah. I do. The rocking motion always caused me to get sleepy."

"I think it still does," he says, stroking my hair.

"Yeah, I think so too." I yawn.

"Are you scared?" Here was always where we talked about the important stuff. Here I confessed that I wanted to experiment with other guys. Here I came out as bi. Here I asked about what it was like to be nonbinary. Here, Puma and I always exchanged secrets and talked about the rough stuff. Well… Not _every_ secret. Just… The important ones.

"A little," I say quietly. "But I'm trained and District One's best shot for sure. Constable and Monday have done everything they could to toughen me up. I think I have a good shot."

"Your mother and I are so proud."

"Thanks. I worked hard. It took a lot to get there."

"I know it did, Baby. I know it did."

We sit like that a little longer. I stay close to Puma, breathing in his scent and feeling him breathe. Maybe it's pathetic for an eighteen-year-old to do this, but at this point I don't care. This is my last night home, after all. When I win, I'll move into the Victor's Village. I'm sure that will become my home, but this home is special. My family's there, after all. They won't be in my Victor's Village house.

"I'd like to keep you here forever, but you should probably be on your way to the Academy soon."

I sigh quietly. "I know." I don't get up quite yet, though. I just can't make myself do it until the very last second.

I eventually make myself get up. When I look over, I see his light blue eyes, soft and gentle as always, smiling at me.

"I should… Go get my training bag. And… Say goodbye."

"So you should," Puma says. I nod and go into the house. I collect my stuff.

"Can we go now?" Vene asks, and my mother nods and stands up. Vene runs over and hugs me tightly, and I hug him back, just as tightly. "Bye Ne."

"Keep your head up high, kid. I'll be back before you know it. Besides, I'll see you tomorrow, when you come for the banquet and in the goodbye room. This isn't the final goodbye."

"I know," he says quietly, still holding on. He lets go and I give him a confident smile, which causes his brown eyes to light up.

"Bye Valley," I say, ruffling her hair slightly. She doesn't hug me but doesn't recoil from my touch. I hug my mother as well. Then, I hug Puma, tightly, but not so tight that he can't breathe. I know that the binder already puts enough pressure on his chest.

Then, I give them all my most confident smile and wave to them.

"Bye! See you all tomorrow!"

"Do us proud," Puma says.

"Of course I will." With that, I turn around and start to walk to the Academy.

.

-Nebuchadnezzar Spiros, 18, District 2-

 _8:00 P.M._

About fifty of my closest friends watch as I turn the dial that will lock the doors of the Academy. I've been waiting for this moment for years and now it's finally here. This is just the first of many victories that will eventually bring me back to District Two, wearing the Victor's crown.

I enjoy having the attention on me as I speak loudly and clearly. "Thank you all for joining me tonight for one last night of training before the Games!" I say, a grin spreading across my face. "So, without further ado…" I turn the dial, hearing the satisfying click of the lock going perfectly into place. "Let the games begin!"

The crowd of kids all whoops and cheers as I pump my fist into the air. Everyone had been on the edge of their seats to see which boy was going to take it this year. It was a toss-up between myself and two other guys my age, and I was the one to emerge victorious, fair and square and clean. Just how I like it.

Not many people thought a blacksmith's son would ever be a volunteer, but the truth is that the craftsman's life is simply not one for me.

My future District partner isn't a part of the ever-adoring crowd. She's still butthurt that I beat out her little boyfriend for the spot. Really, though, I'm doing her a favor by keeping him from volunteering. Who would want to go into the Arena with someone they liked? Well, she's a little on the nuts side, so maybe she would. Either way, I beat him fair and square in a fight, and that way I've earned my spot.

I head to the swords station and pick up a blunt weapon. "Who wants to spar with me first?" I ask, voice booming. Of course the first one up on the mat is my little sister, Charis.

"I'm gonna getcha, big brother!" she says, eyes glinting with a determined fire.

"Alright, alright, and to even out the playing field, I'll only use my left hand," I say. There's not a prayer that she could take me down if I was at my full potential, after all, and she knows that.

"I'm going to end your winning streak!" she declares, and a crowd forms around us to watch. Everyone wants to see the great Nebuchadnezzar Spiros lose a fight, and I'm determined to never let that happen.

I give her a grin which she returns as I tuck my right arm snugly behind my back, gripping my sword in the left,. "Come and get me, Sis."

She charges with a loud battle cry (oh, those fifteen year olds and their need to yell as they charge. Soon they'll realize that screaming and charging is a horrible idea in the arena.) and I strike back. I would never actually hurt my sister, but sparring with her is always fun because she never holds back. Unfortunately for her, neither do I. I've worked really hard to become as ambidextrous as I can, so I block off her strikes like they're nothing.

"Valerian! Come help me!" she says, as her strikes slow down due to exhaustion.

"That wouldn't be fair!" the voice of my twelve-year-old brother pipes up from the crowd. Charis continues to try to break my stance, but my defense is just about as strong as my offense and she can't find an opening.

"No, no, come on Val, grab a sword!" I beckon.

"Are you sure Nez?"

"Of course!" I say cheerfully. Soon, my little brother joins the fight. I can tell the kid looks up to me, which makes me smile. Even with both of them fighting me, I can go into offense and hold them back. It helps that we spar so much that I know their every weakness. I manage to disarm Val and get Charis right in the neck, which eliminates her from the battle. Val is beaming as he fights me. Of course I could just end this quickly and stab him, but I can't help feeling a soft spot for the kid. I defend his attacks but don't end it yet. I'll make him think he had me going there. That always encourages him to train harder and harder, after all. Soon, though, the crowd starts to get bored so I get him right in the side and again in the chest. He's giggling as he falls on his bum, and soon I hold a hand down to help him up.

My trainer Eione always lectures me about being too nice, but this is my family. Surely in the Arena I'll have no problem taking people out easily. I've been working on being meaner, and surely it will translate. I won't spare some kid just because of their age. Not in the Games.

But this is my family, and my home. I can afford to be nice.

"Alright, who's next!?" I ask, grinning. I feel eyes on me and when I glance back, I notice Lori watching me from the throwing knives station, her face twisted in disgust. Like _she_ has reason to be disgusted with _me. I'm_ not the one that showed up to Training in nothing but my underwear one time.

I smirk as I notice the group of twelve-year-olds that want to take me on.

After some more battles and some more handicaps suggested by the crowd, I take a break to rehydrate and recover. In that time, Horus and Euron, the other two wannabes that weren't as good as me, start to spar. I can't help but watch them, amused. Both of them have some obvious flaws in their execution, but neither seems to notice. This is one battle Lori's actually decided to watch. We stand side-by-side for a while, watching.

"You know your friend's leaving his entire right side wide open?" Lori asks, and I glanced over, surprised that the princess would talk to me.

"You know _your_ friend's stance is totally wrong? It'd take one good shove to totally throw him over," I respond.

She gives me an ice-cold glare, and I just shrug. It's true.

"Besides, I never said Horus was super smart, my friend, or even a good person," I say, smirking. "Just hot." Competition between us had been fierce, and the hate-fucking just kind of started from there. He always tried to top me, but obviously never succeeded.

"Hm." Horus wins the battle somehow and Euron starts to come back over. I give him a nod of greeting, out of spite more than anything, which he ignores.

"Nice one," I say to Horus, smirking a bit. "You're lucky he didn't notice that you failed to defend your entire right side."

The other boy just gives a light smile, the ice hiding deep in his eyes. "Thanks," he says smoothly.

"You'll have to spar me later. I need someone older than fifteen to take me on."

"Sure. Oh, before I forget," he pulls out a green bottle from his bag. "I brought some champagne. For celebration."

"I shouldn't have too much. Only an idiot would go to the reaping with a hangover."

"You have to at least open it."

"Alright, alright. Hand me a knife." He goes to get one as I call the other trainees' attention.

"I propose a toast! To the Games! To the Victors! And, of course, to the Academy!" The crowd cheers as Horus hands me the knife and I push the cork off. The liquid bubbles over and I pour glasses for myself and the other older trainees, including Horus, Euron, and Lori. I sip the liquid but immediately get a gut feeling that something isn't right. Before I swallow I feel a horrible burning sensation in my mouth.

 _What the-_ I instinctively spit it out. "Don't drink it!" I shout, even though it hurts. Everyone stops. The only one that wasn't going to drink at all is Horus.

"Nez! Are you alright?!" Charis pushes through the crowd to get to me. My mouth feels like it's on fire as I realize what was about to happen. Anger forms in my chest and bubbles all the way up to my throat.

"I'm fine, Charis," I say quietly, trying to sound like I don't have a lisp even if it hurts more. I storm across the room and grab Horus by the shirt, slugging him across the face. He immediately starts to fight back, but he's horrible at hand-to-hand and everyone knows it. The crowd moves so that I can properly slam him against the wall.

"YOU NO-GOOD CHEATER!" I shout at him. I can only see red at this point. No-good rat, I thought I could trust him and this is what he does?! He thinks that he can take down the great Nebuchadnezzar Spiros with a little bit of tainted _champagne_!? Hell no, absolutely not. That fucking little rat is going to pay for even thinking he could. I feel like a goddamn idiot for trusting this piece of shit. Of course he would do something like this. Of _course!_

"That spot is _mine_!" he shouts back, but it's hopeless and he knows it.

"Oh please," I growl through clenched teeth. By now, so much adrenaline is rushing through my body that I barely notice the pain in my mouth. All I can think about is that goddamn liar that betrayed me. "You _never_ had that spot, it was always going to go to me and you _know_ it!"

He struggles some more, but I shove him to the ground and pin him there. He has to pay for what he did, he has to _pay_! Suddenly I get an idea.

"Charis! The champagne!"

"What?!" she asks, shocked that this is happening.

"Give it to me! NOW! CHARIS!" She quickly runs off and comes back with the bottle. As soon as she puts it in my hand I turn it over, letting the poison cover Horus's face. He yells in agony, which only causes me to laugh. "That's what you get for messing with Nebuchadnezzar Spiros! That's what you get for being a no good goddamn CHEATER!" His face is red and soon horrible blisters start to form. I hope he always has to live with a reminder of what he did. He's squeezing his eyes shut, struggling to get his hands up to his face, but I don't let him. I laugh as I watch him struggle. It's all karma, biting him in the ass.

He gives up struggling, passing out from the pain and agony, and that's when I climb off of him.

The faces of the various trainees are all painted with shock as my anger slowly subsides and I glance down at the ugly sight of Horus's face. Charis looks like she's just seen a ghost. My mouth tastes metallic as I feel throbbing on my tongue and the roof of my mouth.

"Sorry about that, everyone," I say, as clearly as I can, the easy smile spreading back across my face. "I'm going to practice with some throwing knives for a bit, so train how you please."

I hear quiet whispers as the crowd disperses, a couple of people staying with Horus to try and tend to him.

Charis and Valerian fall into step next to me on my way back to the knives station.

"That was awesome!" Val chirps happily.

"Thanks kid," I say, ruffling his long, shaggy brown hair.

"That was a bit cruel," Charis says quietly. "There's no one around qualified to treat him."

I just smirk at her. "Well, now nobody can claim that I'm not mean enough for the spot."

She shakes her head a bit as I pick up a knife.

Nobody will be able to stop me.

* * *

 **Reaping Day**

-Neapolitan Hightower, 18, District 1-

 _6:30 A.M._

I'm awakened by Constable and Monday shaking me awake.

"Man, it's time to get up!" I hear Constable's voice boom. I blink awake, perfectly ready to go back to bed, before realizing that today is the day I volunteer! This is no day to just lay around!

I sit up and smile at them.

"Are you ready for this?" Gloss Constable asks, his blue eyes alight with excitement.

"Of course," I say groggily, yawning and stretching.

"Hmph," grunts Monday. Just as always. Yeah, his first name is Style, but nobody calls him that. They all just call him by his last name, including me.

"And how are you going to manage everyone today?" Gloss asks, raising an eyebrow. I give the sixteen-year-old a hard glare, daring him to say another word in front of Monday. He backs down. Of course he does. He may be slated into volunteer for the Sixty-Third Games, but he knows that I could still kick his ass to next Friday if he mentions it in front of Monday. Not that I'm particularly afraid of Monday, I can still beat him. After all, he is a year younger than me. But the last thing I want is for him to rat. And if he knew, he'd definitely rat.

"I'll manage," I say coldly. "Now if you excuse me, I'm going to get dressed and ready for my big day."

I push past them to the bathroom. When I pass, I notice my future District partner, Lazuli Romano, is already awake and dressed. She's wearing a blouse and skirt, simple and drab, just like she is. She didn't even bother to put her hair up, just as I expected. If only she was still friends with Fantasy fucking Borteli. Now there's a woman. She used to be drab like Zuli, but she saw the light. Now, she's fucking gorgeous, on her way to being a model in the Capitol. I wish they were still friends, I'd love to meet her. Maybe if Zuli actually decided to pull her nose out of those stupid books and try, she might actually have a shot at being pretty. Maybe. I chuckle to myself as I pass, heading to the bathroom.

There, I brush my teeth and make sure my hair is perfect. Everything about today has to be flawless. This is probably the biggest challenge I'll ever face back home, and I'm determined to make everything go smoothly. When I'm sure that's all good, I change into the suit that's waiting for me in my garment bag. There's a white suitcoat, black pants, a black dress shirt, and a red tie. I change quickly, realizing that I don't have much time before the other trainees get here and I'll have to calculate everything perfectly.

I strut back out and the doors open for the Trainers and caterers to set up the banquet. Monday and Gloss have changed into their nice reaping clothes, and unlike lonely, sad Zuli, I'm the head of a good-looking posse. I would have either of those guys in my bed, but unfortunately they're both inaccessible to me. No problem.

The doors open at seven o'clock exactly, and I start to feel nervous.

My nerves melt when the first person to run in is Venetian. He's all excited and smiles. The others file in, and I look around to make sure that everything is how it should be. My eye catches Cashmere, Gloss's sister. Fucking beautiful, but, of course, off-limits. I'm pretty sure Constable would kill me for real if I banged his sister. Shame.

Nobody really talks to Zuli, who hasn't even put her book down. Some younger girls talk excitedly about seeing how skilled she is, and intelligent as well, but mostly it's all about me.

I jump when I feel a tap on the shoulder.

"Neapolitan!" It's my girlfriend, Palace. Ah, Palace, the one whose friends all hate me. They really don't have a reason to, well, she doesn't think they do, but they know to keep quiet.

"Palace!" I give a look around the room before I pick her up and kiss her pretty lips. "How are you, my darling?"

"So excited for you!" she says, beaming at me. "How are you feeling? Are you nervous?"

"Of course not, beautiful. Not with you here." She giggles and covers her mouth to hide her blush. I can't help the easy smirk that appears on my face.

"How did last night with the guys go?"

"It was wonderful," I say. Not a lie. I feel like I really needed that last-minute training, that burst of energy, with my friends nonetheless.

"Oh, I'm so glad!"

"Hey, I should go find my brother, I'll find you later, alright?"

She giggles. "Alright." I kiss her cheek, smiling, and disappear in the crowd. I made her promise to keep our relationship a secret today, for fear of her getting any unnecessary hazing. It took forever to get her to agree, but she did.

On my way through the crowd I bump into Ribbon.

"Ne!" she says, surprised.

"Ribbon! Hey!" Her blue eyes light up when she sees me, before becoming sad again.

"You're really going to do this?"

"I have to, Baby. It's my dream."

"I understand," she says quietly. "But… You could die…"

"I won't." Another look around the room and I wrap my arms around my girlfriend. The considerate one. "Please don't cry, Sweetheart. I hate to see you cry."

"I know," she says quietly, sadly. "I, um, got this for you." She gives me a red rose, and I smile. She always gives me so many really nice and thoughtful gifts.

"Oh, thank you so much my love."

"Congratulations. I… I know this means a lot to you."

"It does, it really does. I'm going to win myself a better life."

"I know you are." She gives me a tiny smile. I kiss her cheek and then her lips. "I think I'm going to go now… I don't like to spend much time in the Academy."

Phew. What a relief. "Oh, alright. I understand. I'll see you after the reaping, okay?"

She smiles a bit. "Of course." She stands on her tiptoes to peck me on the lips before scurrying out of the Training Center. Phew.

I continue to hide in the crowd, but when I see Secret talking to a group of people I can't help but cover her eyes from behind.

"Guess who?" I say, and she grins, turning around. She's wearing a tight, short, form-fitting dress, therefore upholding her title as the smoking hot one.

"Hey you," she says, shooing of the friends that were going to talk about her. Her make-up and hair are just right, she's seriously smoking. Secret and I are even, really. I know she sees other guys, and she must have a hunch that I see other girls. Our relationship is pretty loose, which is nice. "How's your big day going?"

"Better now that you're here." Damn, her cleavage is right there. I love this girl so much.

She laughs. "You have no idea." She kisses my neck, but I know that I can't be seen with hickeys so I quickly guide her chin back up so that I can kiss her lips.

"You taste like cherry lip gloss," she says, smirking.

"What can I say? Today is all about me, after all."

"True, true. Might as well enjoy it. After all, as soon as you're gone there's going to be a huge party at Diamond's and I'll have my fun."

"Oh, you." I smirk and she smirks back.

"They'll never make me feel like you do though, Babe, so you better get back soon and put a ring on this."

I laugh. "We'll see. I think I should go get some food and look for my siblings, I'll talk to you later?"

"Oh, we'll do more than talk." She winks and I laugh, still smirking as I head towards the food table. What can I say, I'm starving!

"Neapolitan!" I notice Special with a plate and smile at her. Ah, Special. AKA, the one whose parents love me. They're convinced we're going to end up together, I'm sure of it. I mean, I am a nice, rich, attractive young man.

"Hey Special!" I say, smiling.

"What's in your pocket?" she asks, her cute little sundress swaying as she keeps her hands behind her back shyly.

"Oh this?" I pick up the rose I'd gotten from Ribbon. "It's for you, my dear."

She giggles a bit and takes it daintily from my hand. "Thanks, Babe."

"Of course." She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me before I can survey and make sure nobody else is watching. Luckily, though, the coast is clear. The room is so crowded and the others are all being distracted by their friends. I hope.

"I won't keep you any longer, I'm sure you have plenty of adoring fans just ready to congratulate you."

"Aw, Babe, you're so thoughtful." I smile and she blushes slightly as she returns it. "Don't worry, I'll talk to you after the reaping, okay?"

"Okay," she says. I kiss her forehead and she giggles as I take my food and head to a table. Alright, we're doing good. I think I've covered all my bases, right?

"Neapolitan!" I look up as the brown-haired, green-eyed boy runs towards me, absolutely beaming. I stand up to greet him. He practically jumps into my arms, causing me to laugh.

"Hi there Little Monday," I say, smiling fondly. Law Monday. AKA, the totally lovesick one.

"Congratulations!" he says, refusing to let go. "I'm so proud of you."

I laugh. "Your big brother is probably going to be here next year."

"Yeah, and you're going to mentor him!"

I laugh. He's so cute. He's the youngest of my partners at sixteen, and also the newest. I totally didn't mean to get involved with him, but the girls were all boring and I was sleeping over at Monday's and… It just happened. He's wearing those fake glasses I love on him. His eyes are alight with joy and innocence. He's absolutely adorable. Plus, it's fun to know that I fucked the innocence right out of him.

"That's right, Love." Convincing him to keep our relationship on the down-low was borderline impossible. He's just so excited, and he's so in love with me it's almost pathetic.

"He's lucky to have an amazing mentor like you," he says, smiling at me.

"He's lucky to have an amazing brother like you," I counter, which makes him blush and causes my smile to grow.

"Oh, stop it," he says, and I laugh and ruffle his hair, scanning the room before kissing his forehead and then his sweet, smiling lips. He kisses back quickly and I can practically feel his heart pounding.

"Want to sit and eat with me?" I ask him.

"Agh, I promised Style I'd meet up with him. But maybe I can get him to come over here so we can eat together."

I smile a bit. That's a good cover. "Alright."

Venetian and Valley eat breakfast with me, Venetian chattering about how it's just like home except better. Soon, Law and Style join us, and Gloss, huffing, takes a seat next to me. It's a nice little breakfast with my friends. The whole time, Lazuli is just sitting at a table, eating, and reading. Of course. A couple of people talk to her. When Palace walks by, I suddenly get nervous, but Little Monday is so oblivious he barely notices her subtly wink at me before walking the other way, leaving me with my friends.

After breakfast, playing footsies under the table with Little Monday, a toast to the volunteers, and a lot more juggling partners, we all head to the Square. When we're all registered and separated, I breath a sigh of relief. I made it. Honestly I have no idea how, but somehow I managed to keep all of my partners away from each other. They have no idea the others exist. I grin and can't help but feel proud. This was a test of strategy, that's for sure.

The reaping starts and a smile comes on my face as Bautista Aquila takes the stage. He's pretty simple, with not many physical altercations. He seems pretty inviting, I'm sure we'll get along just fine. He politely starts the reaping and I wait, anticipating my moment in the spotlight.

"First, the girls." He says, crossing the stage to the first bowl. He draws a name, clears his throat, and reads. "Joy Alfarsi."

A pretty girl with dirty blonde hair wearing a sundress steps out of the fifteens section. She doesn't look all too worried, nor should she be.

"Do we have any volunteers?" Bautista asks, an expectant look on his face.

"I volunteer!" Zuli says. I think that's the loudest and most confident I've ever heard her. She steps up the stage, her drab clothes making me roll my eyes. Some of the guys whisper and snicker next to me.

"Wonderful, wonderful. What's your name, dear?"

"Lazuli Romano," she says into the microphone. Her stupid book is still tucked under her arm. She'll be no problem to defeat in the Games. She smiles a bit and stands tall, though, so at least she isn't a total embarrassment.

Bautista reaps the boy next. "Golden Lambert."

The boy steps out from the sixteen section. When I watch him, I catch Law's eye, who gives me a huge grin and a thumbs up.

"Are there any volunteers for Golden here?"

I take a deep breath and then put my hand up.

"I volunteer!" My heart pounds as I make my way up to the stage, keeping on my best charming smile. It's amazing how different a perspective there is from being up on the stage.

"And what is your name?" his voice booms and I remember to stand up taller, putting on my best confident, attractive smile.

"Neapolitan Hightower!"

"Alright, please give it up for our tributes, Lazuli Romano and Neapolitan Hightower!" The crowd goes crazy as we shake hands.

Before going into the Justice Building, I turn and blow kisses to the crowd, smiling.

At least three people are probably _sure_ that it was just for them. Ah, I love being loved.

I chuckle as Zuli and I go into the Justice Building for goodbyes.

.

-Nebuchadnezzar Spiros, 18, District 2-

 _5:30 A.M._

I always like to wake up early, and today is no exception. My mouth feels much better thanks to some tonic made by one of the apothecary's sons. I still feel sore on my cheeks and tongue, but at least I can ignore it. Hopefully the Capitol will have a good way to heal it the rest of the way.

All of the trainees brought sleeping bags, considering all that's provided for the volunteers are two small bedrooms with queen beds and two small bathrooms. However, I couldn't resist letting my siblings sleep in my room. Originally it was going to be Horus, one last night of fun before I left, but that ended pretty quickly.

Oh God. I have a feeling I'm going to regret what I did to him when I see him. I hope not. I have to be mean if I want to win. That's the biggest weakness to pretty much every Career ever. Don't be a Janie. That's what they always said. Poor girl got attached to her District partner and later was killed by the boy from Ten, just to hurt her District partner. She should have just kept her distance, poor girl. This probably isn't the last you're going to hear of her, I'm sure.

I can't be a Janie. I have to be mean, strong, and come out with all guns blazing.

I yawn and sit up. I know that by doing so I'll bother Charis and Valerian, but they're both pretty deep sleepers.

I don't mind waking up early. Usually I'd go on a run, but we're locked in until the doors open at seven. Then we have an hour or so of extra time to hang out and spread goodwill or whatever before we head to the reaping, which starts at 8:30 promptly.

I rub my eyes and stretch before going to the bathroom and washing my face. I can't imagine the drama that must be happening in Lori's room this morning. She's so obsessed with fashion, of course. She only does things that are in, so the pain that her friends must be going through… I have to laugh a bit to myself. It'll all be for nothing.

I know that I shouldn't underestimate her. She's fucking crazy, of course, but crazy tributes can be the most dangerous. I'll just have to keep her on my good side, or at least from destroying me. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if she woke up now just to start getting ready. Unless she's just going to volunteer buck naked. That causes me to laugh louder before realizing that I could wake my siblings if I do that. I just brush my teeth, amusing myself at the thought of what bullshit is going to happen today. Either way, it will end up with my volunteering, and that's what matters.

I paw at my dark brown hair, wetting it to make sure it feathers perfectly across my forehead. Damn, I wish I could wear something that would show off the bird tattoo on my shoulder, but the truth is that to do that I'd have to volunteer totally shirtless, which I'm not into. Then, I put on my volunteering outfit, a light gray dress shirt and a dark gray vest, black slacks, nice dress shoes, and a red bowtie. Somewhere in the last ten years, it's become tradition to wear red on reaping day, like the color of blood. I had to buy a bowtie special for the occasion. I roll the sleeves of my dress shirt up to my elbows, put on the dog tag necklace that is going to be my token on under my shirt, and make sure everything is perfect. Today is all for me, after all.

When I go back in the bedroom, Charis is sitting cross-legged on the foot of the bed.

"Hey peanut," I whisper, ruffling her already messy bedhead.

"Morning," she yawns.

"Did I wake you up?"

"Nah," she says quietly. "I just couldn't go back to sleep so I figured I'd just be up."

"Ah, I see. Are you going to put your dress on?"

"Eventually." She yawns.

I smile down at her. "Sure you don't just want to go to bed?"

"Mhm." I sit next to her and she leans against me. "I want to spend every last moment I can with you."

I smile a little bit and wrap an arm around my sleepy sister. "Alright. Sounds good to me."

"Chrys wants to see you before the reaping," she says quietly.

"So he said. He seemed nervous."

"Dude, you know he has a huge crush on you, right?" she asks.

I laugh softly. "Yeah, I do. I can't help but feel bad, though. I was always too focused on training for… Anything to happen."

"I'm sure he'd wait until you got home. He's waited this long already."

"I suppose. I guess we'll see."

Chrysanthus is an apprentice to my father, a blacksmith. Once I told my Dad I wanted to volunteer and not take the family business, he brought Chrys in as an apprentice. Chrys is poor, even poorer than us, and his father sounds like a terrible guy, a drunkard that always beats Chrys around. Even so, Chrys always smiled and always seemed happy to see me. I had to be honest with myself, though. I was so focused on volunteering, I didn't want a relationship. Luckily, he never said anything about it. Maybe I'll mention it when I get home.

Val stirs just then and sits up.

"Morning," I say, smiling at him.

"Hey," he yawns, his hair sticking up everywhere.

"It's going to go quickly, right?" Charis asks.

"Of course. I'll be home before you know it."

She smiles slightly as Val hugs my other arm. We stay like that for a while, and I don't even mind that my clothes might get wrinkled. Spending the morning with my siblings is far better than spending the morning with some pathetic-ass cheat. What a goddamn snake. I get mad just thinking about it before I remind myself that I'm going to be the one who is victorious, not him. I'm going to be the one that is successful. It's one more match to the fire under my ass to win. I would do it just to spite that goddamn cheating poser.

"We should be getting up. The Academy's going to open up soon."

"Are you going to spar in that get-up?" Charis asks teasingly.

"Oh, hell no. I don't want to rip my dress pants. What kind of idiot would do that? Surely not a Victor." Charis giggles at the thought, and Val laughs too.

"Really though, as soon as the doors open I'm going to see Duchess."

"Of _course_ you are," she says with an eye-roll.

"Hey, don't speak that way about the love of my life."

Val giggles quietly. "She's such a bitch though."

"Excuse you, I love her. Even if she is a bitch. She's my bitch. I love my bitch."

"Yeah, she's good," Charis says, smiling. "I bet she'll be thrilled to see you."

"Me too," Val says, amused.

We sit like that for a while before Charis gets up to go to the bathroom and get dressed, leaving me with my brother. He's practically falling back asleep, causing me to smile. I'm going to miss them all, but I won't be gone for very long. Once Charis is out and dressed, Val goes to the bathroom and I turn on the lights to the bedroom.

"You look pretty," I comment.

"Thanks," she says quietly, running her hands through her dark hair.

"Of course." I reach out to ruffle her hair but she swats my hand away, causing me to laugh. Once Val is dressed, we go back out into the training center together, where there are still some people and some sleeping bags. A lot of the trainees were getting ready in the locker rooms at this point.

Suddenly, I hear a loud voice. "Everyone hold your applause, now presenting the beautiful Lorelei Nyima!" Ugh, it's her best friend, Esmé Romano, what an annoying little voice she has. When Lori steps out, a couple of her other friends, Joni and Rhys, cheer and applaud. Euron is included in this group. When she steps out though, I have to resist laughing out loud. Charis quickly excuses herself to the bathroom to let out her laughter. I bite my lip, which has resolved itself to stinging numbness at this point, to keep from laughing.

She looks like a goddamn abominable snowman in her outfit, a dress covered in giant white cotton balls. She's wearing fishnet leggings and shiny silver boots.

"Oh my God, puffballs are _so_ in!" Lori says cheerfully. "Truly design genius, Esmé."

Design _genius_. Of course. She looks like a low-budget snow queen, and not in a good way.

"What are you looking at?" she asks me, crossing her arms, but I just put my hands up.

"Nothing, nothing." She keeps walking, stumbling slightly, and Valerian buries his face in my side to keep from laughing out loud. Soon, everyone is awake and the door is opened. As soon as I see an opening, I head out, practically running home to see my one true love. The one that is always happy to see me, the one who will never leave, the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

I unlock the door to my house and pull it open, and Duchess comes running out.

"Duchess!" I say, opening my arms. She jumps on me and starts licking my face, causing me to laugh loudly. "Hi baby! Were you a good girl!? Were you a good girl for Mom and Dad?"

She whines happily and wags her tail. She's a big girl, only a year old, but a German Shepherd so she's nothing but strong.

"I know girl, I know," I say, petting her happily and avoiding her powerful wagging tail. "I know baby, I was gone _forever_ , I know." She excitedly tries to nibble on my ear, causing me to laugh some more. "Hey!" Finally I get the dog off of me and crouch down to pet her. She immediately plops down on her side and rolls over, showing me her beautiful belly and I rub it. "I love you," I coo at her, "Pretty girl, pretty pretty girl."

She whines and wiggles and wags her tail excitedly. I raised her from when we got her, so I'm her favorite. Her mouth is open as she pants and seems to be smiling as I rub her belly.

"I thought you might come back for her," my mom says, and I stand up.

"How was she without me?"

"She was not happy. Wouldn't settle down."

"Aw, I'm so sorry baby," I coo as Duchess tries to jump up on me and I crouch down to pet her some more. "I'm a huge jerk for leaving you, I know baby, I know." Duchess runs inside and I smile at my Mom.

"All dressed up for your big day," she says wistfully. "It's a courageous path you're on," she says. "A path I didn't take."

"I'll do you proud, Mom. Dad too."

"I know you will."

"This is my career. This is how I'm going to make money. By being a Victor. I've worked really, really hard. I have what it takes."

"I know you do, Sweetheart."

"Where's Dad?"

"Probably sleeping. He stayed awake with the dog while she cried."

"Oh… Hopefully it gets easier when she gets more accustomed to being with just you. And I'm sure Charis and Val being there will help."

"I think so too."

Duchess comes back out, a sad pile of string in her mouth that probably used to be a rope toy.

"Did you bring me your toy?" I coo, patting her head as her tail wags rapidly. "I love that toy! What a good toy!"

"Did you get breakfast?"

"No, not yet."

"Well, you should at least have something. Come on." I go in, Duchess staying on my heels as if she knows I'm going to leave her again soon and is trying to prevent it. I eat a small breakfast and spend my time with my dog before reaping time comes nearer.

"I should get going. I promised Chrys I'd meet him before the reaping."

"Alright. Good luck." I kiss my mother and my dog before heading in the direction of the Square, towards the place I agreed to meet with Chrys.

When I get there, he's looking around nervously. He practically jumps when he sees me. "Ah! Nez! Hi!"

"Hey there," I say, smiling. I notice him rotating something around in his hands.

"I made this for you," he says quickly, holding the bronze object out quickly. "It's not very good but I want you to wear it to volunteer if you want but I understand if you don't wanna wear it-"

"Chrys, this is beautiful." I smile at him. "Thank you. I'll definitely wear this to volunteer. Did you make this from scratch?"

"Yeah," he says, smiling bashfully at me. I run my fingers across the textured bronze wings.

"Can you put it on for me?" I ask, smiling.

"Oh- yes, of course!" He takes the headpiece from me and puts it on. The band goes across the bottom of my head, allowing the wings to be perfectly tucked behind my ears. "There you are! I hope it's not too asymmetrical, I was-"

"It's perfect." I take Chrys's hands and squeeze them. "Thank you."

He immediately blushes and looks away from me. "You're welcome!" he squeaks out.

"C'mon, let's get to the reaping."

"Right!" We walk there together. Eventually, Charis and Val find us and fall into step with us, and I can't help but smile. I wouldn't have it any other way. Maybe the headpiece scratches my ear, but that really doesn't matter to me. I bet I look amazing in it.

Soon, though, we all have to separate. Charis goes to the girls' side, Val has to go with the twelve-year-olds, and Chrys to the seventeen section.

I don't see Horus in the crowd, and smirk. Eventually Euron stands beside me, and we make small-talk before the reaping begins. He compliments my headpiece, and I tell him proudly that a friend made it for me.

Pierrepont has been District Two's escort for, like, forever. He's pencil thin, and very gray and monochromatic. It makes him look older than fifty-four. We watch the video and soon he's picking the girl's name.

"Athena Katsaros!"

The girl steps out of the seventeens section. Soon, though, snowball is hollering, "I volunteer!" She pushes through the crowd, seeming to not realize how much space her ridiculous outfit takes up. Finally, she makes it up to the stage. Pierrepont has no idea what to say, just gaping in shock.

"Yes, isn't my outfit lovely?" she asks, smirking. "My name is Lori Nyima, by the way."

"Right, of course. Congratulations. Onto the boys."

"Your turn," Euron says quietly, bumping my shoulder.

I grin over at him. "Hey, thanks for not being an asshole."

He laughs a bit. "Sure thing."

"Icarus Steinbeck!"

The boy is thirteen, and looks pretty nervous as he steps up on the stage.

"Are there any volunteers for Icarus?"

I smirk and put my hand up. "I volunteer!" I shout. At the same time, though, I hear another voice say it from the other side of the section and know exactly who it is. Ugh. I thought I taught him his lesson before! It's a race now, but I'm not letting him take my spot. I meet him at the steps, where I pull my hand back and give him another punch straight to the face. I feel his nose crack and he yells out, trying to tackle me but I shove him to the ground mid-lunge. Then, I smile and take my rightful spot up next to Lori.

"Wow, what a fight! What is your name?"

"Nebuchadnezzar Spiros," I announce, smiling as I look out at the crowd. I turn my head to let the cameras see what Chrys made for me.

"I see. Wonderful. Tributes, please shake hands." Charis is the first to cheer, I know her voice anywhere, and soon the crowd is cheering and chanting as we shake hands I smirk and Lori, who returns the confident look.

I hear some of my Academy friends barking and howling, so before I go to the Justice Building, I let out a howl, my best impression of Duchess, before going back to the Justice Building, adrenaline flowing through my veins.

* * *

 **Goodbyes**

-Neapolitan Hightower, 18, District 1-

 _8:15 A.M._

My family visits me first, and boy am I happy to see them. I'm glad to hug my mother again, and Puma looks beautiful today in a dress and a pretty sunhat. I hug them both tightly, and Valley is willing to hug me finally.

"You got this," Puma says, smiling.

"I know," I say.

"You looked so good up there!" Venetian chants excitedly, hugging me tightly.

"Thanks kid," I say quietly, smiling and ruffling his hair. It takes a while for him to finally let go of me.

"You can do anything you want, Ne," Mama says, hugging me and kissing the top of my head.

"I'll make you proud," I tell them.

"Oh Baby, you always make us proud," Puma says, causing Valley to make a face.

After a little more conversation, my time with my family is running out.

I hug Mama and tell her I love her first. Then, Venetian, who latches on so tightly I'm afraid he's not going to let go ever.

"Be good," I tell him quietly. "Train hard."

"Of course."

"Love you, Vene."

"I love you too, Nea."

He stays even when I hug Valley. She hugs me back, surprisingly tightly.

"Keep your head up, okay?" I say. "You can do whatever you want."

"Thanks," she says quietly.

"Love you Sis."

"Love you too, Bro."

I smile as the twins leave together, leaving me alone with Puma.

"I got this for your token," she says, smiling as she hands me a golden ring.

"Oh, wow… Thank you." I take it.

"Look inside."

When I do, I see three words engraved there. _Strength. Wisdom. Courage._ I smile. "I need these to win."

"You have them already."

I smile. "Thanks Puma."

"Of course Baby."

I hug her tightly, and she hugs back just as tightly.

"I'll make you proud you adopted me. I'll make you proud, I promise."

"Nea, you already have made us proud," she says quietly.

"…Oh. Well, I'll make you prouder."

"Alright." She smiles and kisses my cheek. "I love you so much baby."

"I love you too, Puma."

She has misty eyes as she leaves, and I wave to her one last time before she's gone.

I don't have too much time to feel stuff before Golden, the boy who was reaped, enters. It's tradition for the reaped tribute to visit the volunteer and present them with gifts, so I was expecting him to come and thank him with a smile. He's not really important though. Gloss and Monday visit me, wishing me luck and talking about strategy with me for a while.

Next, I'm surprised by a group of girls entering the room, which confuses me. Soon I recognize them, though. Palace's friends. They have some choice words for me, but mostly tell me that they know I have other partners and after I get back, I have two weeks to dump the others or else they tell Palace about it. I ignore most of their words, though, really not caring what they have to say to me.

The next to visit is Palace herself, who's smiling.

"Congrats!" she says happily, running into my arms as I grin at her.

"Thank you!" I say. She kisses me and, finally not worried about being caught, I kiss back passionately. We don't do much talking, just kissing. That's totally fine by me, though.

I barely have time to wipe her taste off my mouth before Ribbon comes in, crying. She talks about how I could die and tries to offer me a token, but I have to turn her down, showing her the ring I got from Puma. She hugs me and sobs, and I pat her back, making sure her tears don't stain my clothes.

After her comes Secret. As soon as she enters, she unzips her dress and pulls it down, sitting on my lap.

"Make me leave wet," she purrs, and I gladly oblige. Secret is an amazing kisser, of course. We make out, whispering sweet nothings as she grinds against my lap, causing me to gasp and whine, which only makes her grind harder. I'm pretty unsatisfied when she has to go, but soon Law comes in and I forget about that.

I stand up to greet him and he crashes into my arms, and I barely get a moment to wipe Secret's taste off my lips before his are crashing on them. I sit and pull him down with me, running my hands through his hair and unbuttoning a couple buttons on his dress shirt. He has to pull back for air, but I keep kissing and nibbling on his neck. I love how he purrs and writhes under me.

"I'm gonna-" he gasps, "Miss you, Nea," he says breathlessly.

"I'm going to miss you too, my Dear," I whisper into his ear, "I'm going to miss you so much."

I'm surprised when I feel his fingers under my chin, pulling my head up to look at him.

"I love you, Neapolitan," he says quietly, still slightly breathless.

At that, I'm shocked. I don't know what to say, so I just say the first thing that comes to my mind. "Oh Law… I love you too."

He laughs giddily and I take his face in my hands and kiss him again, which he fervently and passionately returns. I don't know if it's because he's a guy or because I taught him everything he knows about kissing, but he's so good at it. I get lost in the time. Soon, though, they're saying that he has to leave.

He keeps his arms around my neck, panting. I can't help but smirk at how disheveled he looks.

"Get home soon, okay?" he says breathlessly.

"Of course, Love." He leans forward to kiss my forehead, and I smile up at him, smoothing down his hair and buttoning his shirt.

"See ya," he says, waving at me with a tiny smile.

"See ya," I say back, and he leaves.

Zuli probably had a lot of time to read while I was getting so many visitors, but she has a look of confusion on her face as Bautista leads us to the train.

I'm smiling ear-to-ear, though. Time for me to live out my destiny of winning the Games. And, of course, time to see the lovely, beautiful Capitol.

.

-Nebuchadnezzar Spiros, 18, District 2-

My parents are the first to visit. And, with them, is Duchess. I immediately smile at seeing them all.

My mother's eyes sparkle with pride as I hug her. I'm fulfilling the dream she never did. She trained a lot, but ultimately after falling hopelessly in love with my father, decided not to travel that path. She's more than proud of me, however. I'm going to make her proud. And, of course, do good for my father's family name.

"Be careful out there, Nebuchadnezzar," he says quietly.

"Of course, Father," I say smiling. "I'll be nothing but careful. I'll make it."

"I know you will," he says quietly. I hug him before crouching down and opening my arms to Duchess.

"I'm gonna miss you girl," I coo quietly. She wags her tail and licks my hand. "I know, baby, I know." I rub her ears and take the opportunity to kiss the top of her head. "I'll be back soon, though." I take the dog tags on her collar in my hand. "I'll have you with me," I say, feeling the necklace through the shirt. My father made me matching dog tags to Duchess's, which I'm going to wear into the Arena with me. Duchess just wags her tail and tries to eat my hair. "Be a good girl from Mama and Dad, alright?" She smiles at me, panting, and wags her tail.

I stand up, giving her one last smile and hug my parents one last time. "I love you," I say.

"We love you too, Nebuchadnezzar."

"I love you too, Baby," I coo to Duchess, and she licks my face before I stand back up and my parents leave, taking her with them.

Charis and Val visit next. They both latch onto me the second they arrive.

"Hey, I'll be right back, okay," I say.

"I know," Charis says quietly.

"Just stay out of trouble, okay? I won't be there to defend you when you say something to piss someone off."

Charis laughs. "I know. I'll pick my battles wisely."

"Atta girl."

"I'm gonna miss you Nez," Valerian says quietly.

"I'll miss you too. But I won't be gone for long."

"Right," they say quietly. They stay there in my arms, though.

"I love you both," I say quietly.

"Love you too," they echo. Too soon, they have to leave.

The next visitor I have is the boy who was reaped for me, Icarus. He's very shy but seems like a nice kid as he offers his congratulations and gives me the traditional gifts for volunteering. After that, the main trainer that worked with me, Eione, visits. She always knows what to say, and gives me a big encouraging speech about how proud she is of me and how much I've grown.

My last visitor is Chrys. He looks pretty nervous.

"Good luck, Nebuchadnezzar," he says, standing awkwardly.

I laugh and open my arms for a hug, which he returns. I hold him tightly, smiling and swaying back and forth.

"Thank you. Thanks for everything, Chrysanthus."

He blushes at the use of his full name. "You don't have anything to thank me for," he says quietly.

"Thanks for being a good friend," I say, smiling. "And encouraging me too. And handling my father when he's stressed out."

Chrys laughs and his hazel eyes are lit up when he smiles at me. "You're the one whose family gave me a home. A job. A life."

"I had a token before I got your gift. But I'm going to wear it as much as I can on camera. I love it."

He blushes. "Thanks, but I'm sure you'll have plenty of better hair accessories in the Capitol."

"Nope. Couldn't have better."

"Thanks…"

I just can't help myself. I cup his jaw in my hand and kiss him. His eyes widen in shock, but soon slide shut as he kisses back. His kiss makes me weak. It's so much better than Horus's. Sweeter, slower, kinder, softer. I trust him. God, that's a scary thought. Trusting someone. I get totally lost in the moment, pulling him closer, feeling his heat against me, running my hands through his hair.

He is the first to pull back.

"We…. Shouldn't do this here. Not now," he says, offering an apologetic smile. Slowly I drift back to earth.

"You're… Right. Sorry." I scratch the back of my neck awkwardly.

"It's… Okay." He laughs a little bit.

"Sorry my kisses are sloppy shit," I say laughing. I explain briefly the poison fiasco, causing him to frown, concerned. I wave him off, though. We stand in awkward silence after that.

"Can I… Hug you again?"

"Y-Yeah. That's fine."

I wrap my arms around him. "Be proud," I whisper quietly. "Be you."

"Of course. You come home soon."

"Of course." I smile at him and he returns it. He has to leave too soon, so I let him go and give him a brief wave before he walks out the door.

Lori seems in good spirits as well as Pierrepont leads us to the train.

This is real. This is really happening.

All of my dreams are finally coming true.

~.~.

 _ **A/N: Whaaaat? Going overborad? I've never heard of her.**_

 _ **So yeah, the reaping chapters are going to be split into three parts and they're probably all going to be hella long. I'm not making any specifications on length either way, I'm not limiting myself and I'm not making a set length. The goodbyes may seem rushed because I realized how fucking long this was going to be oops. Oh well.**_

 _ **Anyways, I'm SOOOO excited to say that this is the FIRST partial for which I filled all the spots before beginning the reapings, and the FIRST partial for which nobody has to submit more than one tribute! Thank you so much for your wonderful submissions, you all ABSOLUTELY NAILED it and I'm so excited to write all of your tributes (District partners especially, y'all are beautiful people and absolutely NAILED it, legit, I have no words to express how perfect the D partners are omg). This is going to be AMAZING and I am SO EXCITED for it! So thank you all so much!**_

 _ **Reviews are always appreciated and do affect who goes far and who dies earlier, so let me know what you think! In fact, if you want sponsor points, I will MAKE you tell me what you thought, haha.**_

 _ **Thanks to paperairline, Reader Castellan, and LokiThisIsMadness for Zuli, Bautista, and Lori respectively! I hope I did well with your characters, if you have any qualms please do let me know!**_

 _ **Chapter Question: What did you think of Neapolitan and Nebuchadnezzar? Which did you like better and why?**_


	3. Oceans

**Pre-Reaping**

-Job Markov, 17, District 3-

 _8:30 P.M._

"I'm going up to bed," Mr. Hauser says, yawning and stretching his arms. "You know what to do. When you're done you can lock up."

"Of course," I say cheerfully, giving my boss a smile. "Just as always."

There's a pause, a silence hanging between us. I'm not sure if I want to ask fear that he might say no, but I just have to make sure. "You're sure it's okay for me to be here so early tomorrow? I mean… You won't be, like, bothered or anything, will you?"

Mr. Hauser gives me a small, gentle smile. "I don't mind. As long as you're ready to work by the time the reaping crowds come to get tokens."

A grin spreads across my face and I can't help but feel relieved. This isn't the first year I'd asked Mr. Hauser to let me come in early, but I'm always worried that he'll have a change of heart somehow. I know that I have to repay him, I'll do the best job I possibly can, he definitely won't be disappointed! "Yes, of course! You bet! I'll definitely be ready to work. I promise."

The sixty-year-old man gives me a nod. I think he knows that I'm fairly reliable. I always do my best and so far, I haven't fallen through on any of my promises. He just gives me a kind smile. "Then you can be here at six o'clock tomorrow morning."

"Thank you so much, Sir! I'll make sure the shop is sparkling before I leave!"

Mr. Hauser's smile becomes sadder. He knows the pain and heartbreak that tomorrow's gonna bring. I know it true, but I try to ignore it while I still can. "Job, you can leave whenever you see fit. You know it's going to be a long day for you tomorrow." I think he knows that I do so much cleaning to distract myself from what would later come. And I don't think he's complaining about that fact.

"Yes, I know. Thank you Sir."

"Alright. Don't forget to lock up. And… have a good night." He nods and starts up the familiar, creaky, old staircase that leads to his flat, up above the pawn shop.

"Sleep well, Sir," I say, offering a polite smile and running a hand through my short, curly, black hair. I love how it's long on one side, really gives it that adorable feminine edge. I have to say that I'm feeling pretty cutesy at the moment. I wish I had enough money to buy a hairpiece… Once Mr. Hauser is upstairs, I keep up my work cleaning.

From the time I was just a kid I'd loved this place. I always came here with my parents and asked, practically begged them to buy something nice for me. It was always a treat for me to go there. And I suppose that even now, it's a treat too. Sure, maybe I once had so much back home, so many new toys and things to play with, but the antiques and random objects I found here held my interest much more than any of them ever did.

Even after I had lst everything, some things stayed the same. And this was one of them. That's a pretty reassuring thought, in a way. The only thing that changed is that now, I'm the one behind the counter.

True, I never thought I would have to work sweeping floors and polishing windows, but that was the turn my life took, and I trust the path I'm on.

So, I continue to dust off the displays, admiring the tarnished bronze knick-knacks that are sold for cheap. I really don't mind this all too much. Mr. Hauser is a good boss, he's really laidback and a kind man. Having a boss that I like just makes me want to see him succeed, so I always do the best work that I can.

I keep working, sweeping the floor. I smile slightly at the familiar rhythm of the broom hitting the floor. When I first got here, I was no good at cleaning considering I'd spent my entire life having maids do it for me. Now, though, I like to think that I do a pretty good job.

Soon, the silence of being alone in the shop becomes too much for me, so, as usual, I start to hum. I always sing when I work, even when Mr. Hauser's gone up to bed. I wonder sometimes if he hears me and just doesn't mind, or if the walls really absorb the sound. I'm curious about things like that.

I'm feeling in a pretty good mood tonight, so I hum happily as I sweep the floors. I want to make the place spotless for when it's swamped tomorrow. Plenty of people will stop in, people that are too poor to have family heirlooms or anything nice to serve as a token in the off-chance someone's reaped… It's horrible, really. Mr. Hauser is a kind man that always gives discounts to families who just want to send their teens off with something nice before the horrible reaping.

I dust and polish, singing to myself quietly as I go. It's really not so bad, I love to sing and when I think nobody can hear me, that makes it all the better. I don't know too many songs, but the ones I do know I know back and forth, inside and out. I love being a musician, and you know what, I love my soprano voice too, even on masc days. You know what, I like the person I am. I like me.

Yeah, I have the fucking audacity to say it. I like me, I like who I am and I'm proud of the person I've become! The Lord above knows how goddamn much it had taken me to get to the point where I didn't hate everything I was. I had been dragged through hell, everything that terrified me, and I ended up with my feet on solid ground, by the grace of God. I will never let anyone tell me that it's not okay to be who I am ever again, you can bet your ass on that. That thought makes me smile to myself as I work. The thought that somehow I made it out of the darkness and now, I'm better than ever!

 _Take that, Lacie! Take that and suck my goddamn non-existent dick!_

Soon I'm shamelessly singing at the top of my lungs. I close my eyes and imagine myself wearing a beautiful dress that puffs out when I twirl around, still holding the broom. I look beautiful and everyone wants to get to know me, as I stick my happiness in my stupid parents' fucking faces, my siblings' stuck-up faces, and Lacie's horrible goddamn face.

It doesn't take long for me to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and my fantasy to crash down at my feet. Right now I'm just some silly girl dancing around and twirling around a broom. Even though nobody was there to see it, a blush of embarrassment spreads across my face as I continue my work, singing quietly to myself and staying focused.

Eventually, I reach the best item in the entire shop. The old, out of tune, rickety piano that rests snugly in the corner of the room. I resist every temptation to slide into the bench and play. Instead, I just dust the keys, making sure they sparkle as much as I can make them. I dust the seat too, feeling the rugged wood under my fingers.

For some reason, that feeling transports me back to a time when I would sit on a smooth bench, in front of a beautiful, black, shining baby grand. A baby grand that was always perfectly in tune. Back in those times, when I was supposed to learn how to be a _proper lady_. I have to admit that sometimes I can't help but miss it. Sometimes, as unfair as it is, as much as it hurts, I miss my old life. My life before everything happened and all hell broke loose. I miss playing my heart out on that beautiful instrument, which would absolutely sing under my fingers.

Then I remember the pain of my mother hitting my knuckles, telling me that what I was doing wasn't right, wasn't proper, that I was missing notes. That causes me to clench my teeth, a brief flash of anger coursing through me as I run my fingers across the keys, some of which are chipped and scratched.

As much as I want to, I know that I can't play now. No, now is the time for work. My fingers twitch tantalizingly, begging to play something, but I turn away from it to keep cleaning display cases. I just have to let the music out through singing for now, I'll get to play tomorrow. It's so hard to be patient, though. Ugh! All I want is to play it, but if I did I would be lying to Mr. Hauser, which I'm not game to do. Not after everything he gave me.

After all, I was nothing but a scrappy orphan in desperate need of a haircut with dirt smudged across my face when I'd appeared in his shop, begging him to let me play that piano, offering to work however long he wanted me to in return for some time playing the instrument. He's a kind, good, gentle man that could see the passion in my eyes. He knew how much this meant to me. He was kind enough to let me work for him in return for some precious time behind the beautiful keys.

I know what you're thinking. I could do a lot of work for pay, and get food and be less poor, save up for an apartment when I turn eighteen, something like that. But you have to understand something about me. To me, music is worth… _Infinitely_ more than money. That's why I always work so tirelessly to make sure everything is as perfect as I could possibly make it. I'm always patient with customers, always helpful and kind, and always finding things around the shop to make the kids' eyes widen in wonder, even when I want to murder someone. But it's worth it. It's worth everything because in return, I get to play music. Music, which is worth the world to me, music, which saved my goddamn life. I need music to survive, it's just as valuable to me as food. Maybe more. I'd rather die making music than live miserably.

The old thing is for sale, and sometimes I have nightmares of the day this thing sells. This is the only chance I have left to play. I try not to think about that too much, though, it's just too painful a thought for me to swallow.

After I finish the cleaning can do, I crack my knuckles, satisfied. I should probably get back to the orphanage. The Kleins are probably wondering when I'll get back. I give one last look behind my shoulder to make sure everything still looks perfect for tomorrow before shutting off the lights and locking up.

It's a brisk summer night as I walk slowly back to the orphanage, humming to myself. I honestly never thought I would survive through the worst of my life, but somehow I had. Even through abuse and heartbreak, doubting myself, doubting every part of my goddamn identity. It was hard. I'd hit rock bottom. It's by the grace of God that I am still standing today, I just know it is. That thought causes a smile to spread across my face and a song comes to my heart.

"On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand, all other ground is sinking sand," I sing quietly to myself.

I wasn't born with the name Job. Mr. Klein was kind enough to go with me to help legally change my name. When I introduce myself as Job, there are a couple reactions I usually get. They're both branches of confusion. Confusion that wait, that's not a very feminine name. Then the confusion of why I would pick a word that referred to occupation. But that gives me the perfect segue to talk about why I chose the name. Job was a prophet, a man of God. I don't remember much about the Bible, but I remember that, even today. Job was a man that turned his back on evil and lived a godly life. I chose my name because of him. Yeah, maybe I have to be careful about being religious in front of people that could kill me or make me a target, but usually I don't give a damn.

My pace slows slightly as the orphanage comes into sight. I sigh a little bit. It's times like this that I wish the sky wasn't so polluted, so I could actually see the stars. Alas. Of course this shit District wouldn't have any natural aspect to it whatsoever. Like always, it's just murky and ugly and dark. At least the breeze is kind of nice, though. At least it doesn't smell like smog right now.

I slowly pull the handle of the orphanage door, opening it as quietly as possibe. The lights in the Kleins' room are off, so I tip-toe quietly down the hall, doing everything I can not to wake the others. It's going to be a long day for them all tomorrow.

My room is the farthest one down the hall. I share it with three of the other older orphans. When I get there, I notice that the lights are still on. They must be up talking, probably about the reaping. I sure hope they weren't just waiting for me to get back. They need to get their rest, I wouldn't want to keep them from that. When I enter, my roommates and a couple others are all sitting on their beds, having a hushed conversation. When I glance over to my bed, I'm not surprised to see two people sitting on it.

"Hi Job," Tip, a fourteen-year-old girl with the prettiest smile I've ever seen, says from her spot on my bed. Tip and Cas, a twelve-year-old with light hair and blue eyes, sit on my bed, the top bunk on the left side of the room. The bottom bunk on the left side belongs to sixteen-year-old Ether, who, as usual, is sitting by himself, covered by a blanket because he doesn't wear a bra to sleep. I don't either. Who the hell would? Bras are horrible uncomfortable death. Free the tiddays!

Across the room, on the top bunk is Denali, a seventeen-year-old girl, the toughest person I know. Her parents are no-good Games betters who named her after a random tribute and just dumped her off here as a baby. She was the one to show me the ropes and introduce me to everyone, my first friend. On the bottom bunk is the youngest of my roommates, Navigator, an outstandingly intelligent fifteen-year-old. Amalia, a thirteen-year-old with the biggest imagination I ever knew, sits next to him.

"Hey," I say. This is a normal occurrence, so I'm not phased. I find a corner to strip off my work clothes and change into my pajamas as they continue their hushed conversation. Mostly about the reaping, no surprise there. They're all reaping age this year, after all _._ I eventually climb up the ladder to our top bunk, where Tip and Cas move so I can sit with them.

"Are you scared for tomorrow Job?" Cas asks quietly.

I know the others are probably looking to me for direction and reassurance, so I put on a convincing smile. "A little bit. But I've had five other years where I wasn't picked, so why would this year start?"

"I'm scared," Cas says quietly.

My heart breaks for him. I hate seeing him scared. "I know. I can't help being a little bit scared too. But you know what? I run on faith. If I'm reaped, I'm confident that it's for a reason."

"She's so brave," Tip breaths, but I don't really think that's true. Faithful, sure. But brave? Not really.

"How are you guys holding up?" I ask, concerned about my friends.

"Just about as alright as always." Navigator says, flipping over so he was hanging upside down off his bed. That gets Cas and Amalia to laugh a bit.

"I'm surviving," Denali sighs. "Still wondering if I were reaped, would my own parents bet on me?" She scoffs and I can't help but feel horrible for her. Poor girl... She's been through so much. Her struggle makes my problems seem absolutely petty.

"That's what we do best," Tip says, ruffling Cas's hair, "Survive."

I notice that Ether isn't talking. Yeah, maybe that's normal for him, but I can't help hanging over my bed to look at him, not too bothered by the blood rushing to my head. "How about you?"

Ether glances up at me, his dark eyes unreadable, even for me, who knows him better than anyone else here. "I'm fine."

"This is your first year in the right section, right?" I say. Maybe that'll be some kind of silver lining.

Ether twiddles his fingers. "Yeah," he breathes. "Doesn't make me any less likely to die."

"I know," I sigh quietly. He's right, there's nothing that will make reaping day any easier for any of them, and I'll just have to accept that, even if it's hard. "Just think like this, Navigator will be one age group behind you. And if you're nervous, you could talk to some of the other guys around and tell 'em all about your beautiful friend Job."

Ether laughs a bit at that, which makes me smile proudly. "Yeah, true. Of course," he says.

I know I shouldn't change the subject, but can't help but ask, "Are you guys going to go to the shop with me tomorrow?" I really, really hope they do. Playing music is much more fun when there are other people there to sing with me. Most of them answer affirmatively, which causes me to smile. Denali is the only one that's on the fence, as usual. I don't blame her, though. Honestly, what we do, what I do, the songs I sing… They are probably dangerous. But nothing is going to stop Job fucking Markov. Never. _Again_.

"We should probably get to sleep then," Navigator says, glancing at Ether, who's probably already half-asleep at this point. I smile, amused. This boy can honestly sleep through _anything_.

"Yeah," Cas says.

"You're going to be fine, okay?" I try my best to reassure him, putting a hand on his head.

"I hope so…"

"Just remember to sleep. Tomorrow will be over before you even know it." Cas gives a small nod as he and Tip climb down the bunk, joining Amalia to head back to their room and turning out the light on the way.

"Night guys," I say quietly, yawning, as we all lay down. I close my eyes, barely getting through my night time prayers before dozing off.

.

-Ott Travers, 15, District 4-

 _3:15 P.M._

"So, what do you say!? Wanna go to the beach?" I ask excitedly, bouncing on my toes.

"Yeah! Yeah!" my tiny six-year-old cousin beams up at me. "Only if we can go to the candy store first though!"

I laugh and ruffle his hair. "Alright. Deal."

Brock beams and pumps his fist. "Yes! Is Adele comin' too?"

"I don't know, I'll see."

I pop into the family room, where my parents are talking to my Aunt and Uncle. All four adults look up when I look in.

"Hey, I'm gonna take Brock to the beach for a bit."

"Make sure you bring sunscreen," Dad says, and I nod quickly. This isn't my first rodeo.

"Can I take Adele too?" I glance at the two year old, crawling happily around the room.

"She's not really potty trained yet…" her mother says.

"I think it's a lot of responsibility, Otty," my mother says, giving me a pointed look.

"Maybe next time," my father says, "How about that?"

"Alright. Deal." That's fair, I suppose. I grab a backpack, throwing in some sunscreen, an umbrella, some sunhats for both of us, my wallet, and a couple of towels.

"Ready to go?" I ask Brock, who bounces on his feet excitedly and beams up at me, his green eyes sparkling excitedly.

"Yeah!"

I ruffle his messy, light brown hair and take his hand. "Alright, let's go! Bye!" I call to the living room.

"Make sure you're back for dinner!" my mother calls.

"And don't spoil your appetite!" calls my Aunt as the door closes behind us.

"Alright, you have to hold my hand now and don't let go, okay?"

"Okay!" Brock chirped, squeezing my hand. He skips along, so I have to jog to keep up with him. Not that I really mind, though, I love to go fast! We're a great pair, him and I, because we're both so energetic. I always fancy that I'd make a good babysitter.

I take a second to imagine it. _Ott the Babysitter. Adored by children everywhere. Everywhere he goes, children wave at him and want to hug him. He spends his nights playing with kids and generally having fun. He gets home to the most gloriously attractive man who gives him a smile and calls him Baby a lot. When that beautiful man calls him Baby, Ott says, 'You mean, babySITTER,' and they both laugh._

"What are you gonna get Otty!?" Brock's question snaps me out of my daydream.

"Oh, I don't know. Do you know what you want?"

"Gummy fish!" he says happily. Just as always.

"Don't you want to change it up one of these days?" I ask, amused. I usually ask this question, and every time he gives the same response.

"Maybe. But not today!"

I laugh as I open the door and we go inside. The owner is an older lady who knows us both by name. And, of course, I know this place like the back of my hand. Whether I'm coming here with the rest of Team Starfish or with my cousin, we always spend generously.

Brock takes a bag of gummy fish and I decide to get some peppermint patties, grabbing a bag of chocolate-covered peanuts for my father and dark chocolate chunks for my mother. Brock helps me pick out some chocolate-covered potato chips for his mother and a half dozen chocolate covered pretzel rods for his father and, of course, a colorful lollipop for little Adele. All the candy is put in bags and once I pay for it, I stick it in my backpack. I hand Brock his bag of gummies and munch happily on a patty as we leave. The sun is warm and I realize that we probably should have stopped at the shop after going to the beach, considering everything is going to melt now. I always resolve to do it in the right order next time, but then when next time comes around I always forget.

Oh well! No biggie. After all, we have plenty of next times for me to get it right.

Brock is running towards the beach now, and I easily keep up with him. Sometimes Brock gets so moody that it's hard to get him to do anything, but today he's more hyper than ever. When I take the bag of candy back to keep him from spoiling his appetite, he doesn't fight me. When we get to the beach, I throw my backpack down and slide off my shoes, Brock doing the same. He takes his shirt off, and I don't even hesitate before doing the same. I take some sunscreen out of my bag and apply it to my face, neck, and stomach before putting some on Brock's face, chest, and back. Then, I shrug out of the cursed sports bra I had to wear and together, we run towards the ocean, barely waiting for the sunscreen to soak in. What can I say, the water is just too tempting!

Brock squeals when his feet touch the water. "It's cold!" he says, giggling.

"Yeah, it is, isn't it?" I ask, running out to where the waves are up to my thighs and shivering. "There's no better way to get used to it than diving right in!" I say, grinning. I take a deep breath, loving the feeling of my heart pounding as I prepare to dive into the cold water. I count down from three and plunge right in. The water makes me feel so awake and alive. I pop up and grin as Brock runs towards me. He learned to swim when he was four, and loved it ever since. That was back when all I wanted to be was a swim coach.

 _Yes, Ott the swim coach. Spending his life devoted to teaching people how to swim. Admired in the Academy for producing the best and most conditioned swimmers. Spending his life in the water, teaching people of all ages to swim properly and conditioning them to swim quickly and long-distance. After a long day's work, he'd still have time to go surfing. He'd spend his life on the beach, live in a nice beach house with a smoking hot girl he called his wife. Every day she'd greet him with a kiss and one day she would confess that she was embarrassed because she didn't know how to swim. So, of course, he would teach her. It would be romantic, and silly._

My daydream is interrupted as a wave crashes over me, taking me by surprise but causing Brock to giggle like mad.

We spend a lot of time there, jumping as waves come and letting them carry us wherever they will, splashing each other, playing with the wet sand between our toes and fingers, and laughing. I love my cousin and I love to spend time with him.

I see some teens that look close to my age nearby, mostly chatting but occasionally yelling, throwing each other into the waves, and laughing. I catch one of the girls' eyes and wave, but she quickly makes a face and looks away. Huh. She probably just isn't used to my energetic extroversion. She's probably just wondering why that stranger's waving at her.

Playing with Brock, I completely lose track of time. I'm just having so much fun. Soon, though, I realize that if we don't hurry, we're going to miss dinner.

"We have to go! We can't be late!" I say, and Brock's eyes widen as he nods. Together, the two of us run out of the ocean, throwing our shoes on. I hand him a towel that he wraps around his shoulders and do the same, sticking our shirts and my bra in the backpack before the two of us, still dripping, start running back home. But no, I'm not Ott, the boy who lost track of time and is trying not to be late. No, I'm…

 _Ott, the professional track runner. He's super fast, making his opponents fear him on the track. He runs remarkably, he's always in first place! He has a fiery rivalry with another runner, and soon it turns into a passionate affair. Ott always wins the races, though, because he's just that good a runner. He trains every day on the beach, running remarkable distances. He's super fit and strong and, of course, fast!_

I reach my doorstep, my lungs burning with fire as I pant, absolutely exhausted. Just then I realize that in my daydream, I lost Brock! Oh no oh no, fuck fuck fuck, if my parents find out they'll be mad, his parents will be mad, where is he? I start to panic, quickly backtracking. Luckily, he's not too far behind.

"Let's… Not tell Mom about that…" I pant, my throat coated thick as I gasp for air.

"Mmkay!" Brock chirps, unphased by the run. Of course. His parents want him to volunteer so they're starting him early. I'm lucky my parents never did that.

I'm still panting as I open the door. Adele is in her high chair, and the food is on the table. We're too late.

"There you are," my mother says, giving me a look.

"We were starting to get worried," my Uncle says, crossing his arms.

"Sorry," I say quietly, still panting, "Lost track of time."

"Brock, put on your shirt and come sit down for dinner," my Aunt says. "And dry off, your dripping all over your Aunt Caitlyn's floor."

"You too, Ott," my father says. But when I pull out our shirts, I notice they're all sticky. The candy, of course. It probably melted all over them… I feel glares on me and slide on my bra, handing Brock his stained T-shirt and slipping mine on.

"What's all over your shirts?!" my Aunt asks.

"Just chocolate," I say. "I'm sorry, I just got some to bring back, but I guess it melted." My parents sigh, and I guiltily slide into a seat to eat.

Dinner is basically silent. Brock talks happily about being on the beach for a while and Adele bangs her spoon on the table of her high chair, but none of the adults say a word. When we're done, everyone takes silverware back to the sink.

"Ott, your Uncle and I would like to speak with you," my Aunt says decidedly.

"Oh… Okay."

My mother looks over from where she's washing dishes. "I thought I told you that you're not going to talk to my son about this."

"Come with us." I nod a bit.

"Not without us there you're not," my father says, standing up. I start to get nervous. What's happening?

Brock and Adele are left out in the kitchen, easily distracted by toys, and I sit with the adults in the living room. I try not to let my stained shirt touch the couch.

"Ott," my Aunt starts, "Your Uncle and I have been talking, and we agreed that it is for the best that you not spend any time with Brock anymore."

The news knocks the wind out of me. My head starts to fill with thoughts. "Wh-What!?"

"It's for the best," my Uncle says.

"I-Is it because we were late!? I promise, we'll never be late again, I'll stay on top of things! Next time we'll go to the candy store last so it doesn't melt! I promise I'll be more responsible, please-"

"Sweetie, this isn't… Because of that," my mother says quietly, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I feel nothing but confusion. What? Why? Why could it possibly be then?

"What?"

"You silly child. Do you not understand that you're a freak of nature?" my Aunt asks, totally seriously, and I feel like I've been stabbed in the heart.

"You don't get to talk that way about my SON!" my father yells. All my life, I've never heard him this angry. He almost lunges across the room but my mother grabs his arm.

"Wh-What?" My eyes fill with tears. "Please. He's my cousin and I love him."

"He's our son," my Uncle says, glaring at me. "And the last thing we want for him to be is a freak like you." Tears pour out of my eyes.

My father does lunge this time, he grabs my Uncle by the shirt. "I thought I told you that you were NOT to say this to his face!"

"She has to know someday," my Aunt sighs. That comment just fills me with rage. I clench my fists and can't help but speak up.

"Why now?" I whimper, tears rolling down my cheeks. My mother puts an arm around me. "Why _now_?!" I ask again, louder, angrier, my voice breaking with tears. "I'm no less trans than I was last time I saw him! I am no less trans than the last time we were together! I'm no less trans today than I was six years ago when he was born! I'm no less trans than I was then, so why now!?" I bite my tongue to hold back a sob.

"We were hoping you would grow out of it," my Uncle says, and I watch my father punch him, his own brother-in-law, in the face. My eyes widen in shock.

"Darwin please, you're scaring Ott," my mother says, which causes my father to soften up and let him go.

"It's obvious that you're not going to any time soon," my Aunt says. "Especially after that… Display you were showing, coming back in the house."

"What…?" I think about it and then I realize what she means. "You mean me swimming shirtless."

"So unladylike, absolutely unheard of," my Aunt says. "Disgusting. I can only hope that didn't corrupt Brock already."

I can't hold back the sob that rips out of my throat. It's pathetic, but I can't control it. I can't believe that they'd write me off just because… Just because…

"Get the hell out of my house," my father says, teeth clenched with pure anger. "Get the HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

"Gladly," my Aunt says, standing up. "Child, you will never come near _either_ of my children again, do you understand?"

I swallow hard, tears rolling down my cheeks. "Yes. I understand."

"If you do grow out of it and decide to change your ways, you are welcome to come back."

I turn away angrily. I don't want to say something I regret.

"Leave," my mother says. "You've caused our son _enough_ pain. Leave right now, don't say anything else."

My Uncle picks up Adele and folds up her high chair. Brock is asking questions, confused.

"I'm your _sister_ , Darwin. You're really going to lose your sister just because I disagree with your lifestyle?"

"No sister of mine will treat my son like that," my father growls coldly. "Leave my house and don't come back unless you're going to apologize to Ott and pay him decent respect."

Brock is still asking confused questions as my Aunt takes his hand and the four of them leave.

The moment the door slams shut behind them, I start to sob louder. I can't hold it back anymore. I'm so used to holding it back, but now I just can't control it.

"Tell me it was because I was late! Tell me it was because I was irresponsible!" I sob, "Tell me it was because of my actions, not because of my goddamn stupid _vagina_!"

"You know we stand by you, Ott," my mother says quietly, opening her arms to me. I hug her tightly, sobbing into her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry you had to hear that, Otty," my father says quietly. "We agreed that they were going to tell you respectfully, and they didn't. I should have known." My mother lets me go and I run to my father, wrapping my arms around him tightly and sobbing into his shoulder.

"I'm so so-sorry!" I sob, holding onto him tightly. "You lost your sister! And it's all because of me!"

My father pulls me closer as I sob loudly. "No, Ott, it's not your fault. She was being disrespectful. I don't want to associate with people that are blinded by prejudice."

I still can't help but feel like this was my fault. I sob and hold onto him tightly.

"If I were just born normal-"

"Otty, listen to me." My father pulls back, keeping his hands on my shoulders and holding earnest eye contact with me. "You were born perfectly you, okay? You're not a freak, Ott. You're a very worthy young man that has every right to everything other young men do."

I sniffle and nod a little bit. "Did you get the letter? That said I'd be on the right side this year?"

My father's expression becomes sad. "Not yet. You'll have to stand with the girls this year. I'm sorry, Otty…"

"It's okay." District Four elected an extremely conservative, prejudiced, rich snob mayor, so getting an official gender change has been a painstaking process. Luckily I changed my name as soon as I came out. For last year's reaping, the first one I was out for, I just didn't think about it. It wasn't until they day came that I realized I was in the wrong section. I applied for a gender change, but the government here in Four is dragging its feet. Ugh. Another year on the girls' side it is.

"I called to see if they were on it, but they hadn't changed it in the system. Apparently they're blocking female to male because there's not a set volunteer for the female's side this year."

"They're going to prevent me from going to the correct side because they think I'm _faking_ to be guaranteed safety!?" I ask through tears, more anger bubbling in my gut. "That's not fair!"

"I know it's not fair. I had a very angry conversation with the idiots on the other side of the line, but they weren't budging. They'll use any excuse to keep you from switching sides."

"Why?" I ask, sniffling and crossing my arms. "I'm a human being! I'm not hurting anyone!"

"I don't know," he says quietly. "It's not your fault, Ott. It's their fault. Those idiots."

I sniffle. "Thanks for trying, though."

"Next year," he said, smiling slightly. "And if not, I'll run for mayor and do it myself."

I laugh tearily. "Thanks Dad. But the company would miss you too much."

My father is the head of Rutherford Shipbuilders. He got the position because he had worked there for a long time, and my Uncle didn't want the job. So, it went to his brother-in-law, my father. He works very hard, I know he does, and we live a very lavish, comfortable life. If only it wasn't so hard to find a good binder thanks to the government.

"How about we eat some cookie dough and watch a movie?" my mother asks, her eyes looking sad.

I sniffle, taking a tissue to blow my nose. It won't make me forget about the pain and the terrible things that were said to me, but… It's better than crying in my room in the dark.

"Sure," I say quietly. "Thanks."

* * *

 **Reaping Day**

-Job Markov, 17, District 3-

 _6:05 A.M._

Mr. Hauser was there to unlock the shop at six, just like he'd promised. I'm already dressed, considering I knew I wouldn't have time to get home before the reaping. Most of the others are dressed too, all the way down to six-year-old India, who had noticed us leaving and insisted on coming with us. Denali had decided to come after all, but still doesn't seem very comfortable. Hopefully she'll relax a bit once we've settled in more. I'm just glad she came along. Maybe she'll feel the Spirit sometime today through music. Even if she doesn't, I'm just glad she's here.

"Good morning," Mr. Hauser greets us. I feel so happy to see him, and grateful for his generosity, letting us come here and sing and let off some worries before the reaping.

"Thank you for letting us in," I say, trying to convey just how much I feel it in my heart as my eyes lock on the beautiful instrument. Yeah, maybe I'm tired and my stomach is rumbling hungrily, but right now, I don't think about that. I just need to play. "I hope this isn't too hard on you."

"Not at all," the man says kindly, smiling. "I'll… Get out of your way now." He goes back upstairs, probably to make himself breakfast and get dressed. I always try to make sure he knows that he's absolutely welcome to stay, but he never does. Either way, I'm just glad that he lets us in here to do this.

I take a seat at the piano and a wave of peace immediately crashes over me as my fingers spread across the keys, feeling the cool, smooth ivory under them. It's just so… familiar and calming. Music is my life, music is my food, music is my home. No matter where I am, no matter what kind of day I've had, music is home. Music is life. Music is love.

I start with a couple of scales while the others find places to sit down. It's barely real music, they're just scales, but to the others, I'm playing some concerto or something. That thought always makes me smile. It's pretty amusing, honestly. I tried to teach Ether how to play a scale once, but his fingers don't move very fast. He did get it, very very slowly and choppily. It was just fun for me to teach someone.

I absolutely love giving these impromptu concerts, of course, but even more I just… I fucking love to worship. And it's always just so much more fun and meaningful when my friends are here with me. After everything I'd been through, the Lord is loyal, and steadfast, and my faith had gotten me through _so much._ I just… I love being a Christian so fucking much and I would not give it up for the world. The Lord is my strength. My hope. My purpose. I am so thankful for the work God's done with my life.

My hands spread across the keys and I begin to play chords for one of my all-time favorites. This is a song that pulled me through the very worst time of my life. This was the first worship song I had the goddamn _audacity_ to sing after being kicked out and told I'm going to hell.

"You call me out upon the waters… The great unknown… Where feet may fail…" A smile spreads across my face. I feel perfectly calm. Perfectly peaceful. I've never seen the ocean, but I can practically picture it as my hands easily find the chords. Yeah, maybe right now I wish I was a rich, pure tenor. Maybe I wished I could transpose this from the key of D to the key of G. I wish I could belt in a lower range. Even if I'm charged full of masculine energy, though, I can't just… Not sing. I will never, ever be silenced again. That's a promise.

"I will call upon You name, and keep my eyes above the waves… When oceans rise, my soul will rest in Your embrace… For I am Yours, and You are mine…" I can't help but smile. I just know, I have this amazing, warm feeling in my heart, I know that this is what I am meant to do. Right here. I can't explain how, I can't explain the sense, that knowledge, I just… I just know it somehow. By some calling from above.

On the next verse, I hear Navigator, Cas, and little India singing along (or, trying their best), which causes my smile to widen. And, of course, soon playing straight, blocked chords becomes far too boring for me, so I spice it up with some different harmonic rhythms and sevenths.

 _After all, straight is boring._ That thought causes my smile to widen. After fighting through so much internalized homophobia, making little gay jokes like that just makes me happy. Maybe it's pathetic, but I like the little things. Just… Knowing that I've finally reached a point where I'm not ashamed of it anymore. I look fucking good in a dress shirt, with my perfectly short curly hair and my tie is tied perfectly, and I feel comfortable. The sleeves of my shirt are rolled up enough to see the tattoo of a pocket watch and gears on my forearm, and the tattoo of a treble and bass clef making a heart on my other wrist.

Knowing that the bridge is coming, I pull the reigns of the accompaniment, going back to block chords. Singing these words is just so important to me, and I feel them all in my heart.

"Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders, let me walk upon the waters, wherever you would call me… Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander, and my faith will be made stronger, in the presence of my Savior…"

I can't help it, I'm just so thankful that Jesus walked by my side in my most horrible, ugly moments. And now, I'm nothing but confident that a God that would make his people queer would never turn his back on them. _God so loved the world._ That meant the goddamn world. After all, it was called the _Bi_ -ble. Which is perfect for me, a proud biromantic, (demi)bisexual, bigender Christian.

Yeah, I know that people fucking hate me. Ha, my own goddamn _parents_ hate me because I'm queer, my siblings following them, and everyone that learns I'm a Christian treats me like I'm some kind of damn alien. But now, I simply don't give a shit what anyone says. I believe strongly in a God of love, after all. And _that's_ why my heart is beating today. _That's_ why I can sing so joyfully.

Even after the words run out, I can't help myself, I keep playing. I just know that I have to enjoy every second I can with the instrument, after all, soon it's gonna be right back to work. Not that I mind all too much, I just know that I would always rather be playing.

Well, _almost_ always. Sometimes I'd like to push the stupid instrument right out the window, particularly when I'm working on something particularly challenging or for some reason my stupid fingers are getting twisted and confused. Yeah, those days happen, and they are very stressful, but ultimately I can always go back to those songs that mean the world to me, and be reminded why I do what I do.

Ultimately, music is hands-down the best gift God has blessed me with, and I want nothing more than to use that gift as much as I possibly can.

I sincerely hope that years and years from now, maybe a random number, how about… 64 years from now, one of my descendants could have the opportunity to use this amazing gift, playing the piano, singing, making a difference.

I sing a couple more songs, enjoying being with my friends and hearing some of their lovely singing voices. When I finish one of them, I just feel moved, peaceful, and my fingers just keep moving on my own as I speak from my heart, trying to console my friends.

"We live in a world of violence and hate. There's no way to dance around that fact. And… While I can't tell you why it has to be like this, I can tell you this. God has a plan. And it's a good plan. And… Until we see what that might be, we can focus on each of our own paths. After all, we, as Christians, are called to do amazing things. And, while the world is definitely a scary one, we have to remember to have faith. Even in the tough times. Especially then." I smile slightly as I keep playing, letting the music fill the comfortable pause. "I believe in a God that made his people perfectly, each and every one of us. I believe in a God that loves each and every creation that exists here on this Earth, and a God that is pleased with what he's made, a God whose heart bleeds for each and every tribute that steps on that stage, for each and every teen that has their name in those bowls. A God that hates evil and turns his back on corruption. A God with a plan. Amen?"

I smile when they echo, "Amen."

"Have faith. That's the one thing that no matter what, they can't take from us. And that's… Revolutionary." I grin and spread my hands across the keys for one more song. The time always goes by so fast when I'm playing music.

While the last chord is still ringing, I take a deep breath and pray. For everyone who is nervous to be calmed, tear-stained eyes to be wiped. For myself and my friends to have courage and strength, to reach out to the people who need a friend. To hold strong and keep faith in the darkest times. And, of course, for the tributes, whoever they're going to be. We don't know, but God knows already. I pray for strength and safety for us and our group, for the tributes to hold fast and have courage, to be calmed. The families of the tributes, whoever they would be, to be safe and calm. It's pretty easy to pray today. So many people are going to be shrouded in darkness today. All I want is to be a light in the darkness. I hear some sniffles and small sobs from Cas and Tip, so as soon as I'm done I get off the bench and scoop them up into my arms. India and Amalia join the hug. Denali even joins, shaking. Ether sits awkwardly, but when I open an arm to him he snuggles under it.

"You're going to be fine," I whisper to all of them. "We're going to be alright."

I can't help but cry with them, though. Just a couple tears. I hate to see my friends so upset like this.

I hear the creaky steps as Mr. Hauser comes down, so I whisper some last reassuring words to my friends as I let go.

"I'll see you guys later," I say quietly, and the others nod. "Take care of each other, okay?"

"Of course," Navigator whispers, voice quivering slightly.

"You'll be okay. We'll be alright. I'll catch you after."

They nod and leave together, which makes me smile. It's all going to be alright.

I sit behind the register as Mr. Hauser and I wait for the crowds to come in. I wonder if Erastus and Betsey are going to come into the shop. Surely my parents won't, not knowing that I'll be here. Soon, the place is full, and work begins. I just smile and continue to be patient. When my brother and sister come in, I smile and greet them. They look away from me. Yeah, it's much easier for them to pretend I don't exist, but I'm not going to pretend they don't exist. That's not who I am.

In the sea of people, I see Lacie, talking to one of her friends. I look away, not wanting to remember the things she said to me, the fights we had, the pressure she put on me all the time. I push my spite away, though. It has no place here. The only thing there's room for here is forgiveness. Even if I know I probably shouldn't.

"Welcome," I say to Lacie, smiling. She looks the other way and walks right past me, scowling. I guess I'm not surprised. Since I'm the spawn of the devil to her, I'm sure she still doesn't want to so much as look at me.

The time flies before the shop is basically empty and we're locking up to head to the reaping. On the way, I try to console some of the younger kids that looked like they were about to cry. I stand in line to get checked when I notice the boy in front of me has a space around him. It was as if nobody wanted to be around him. I immediately feel drawn to him. I don't know what it is, but something in me just feels called to strike up a conversation with him.

"Who's that?" I ask someone beside me.

"He terrorizes people, I've seen it," the boy says.

"He's a street rat, I think," another seadds.

"I hear he's a murderer," one little girl says.

"Oh." I take a couple steps forward, not caring that the others protest. "Hi there," I say. The boy glances over, eyes slightly calculating. He's really not bad-looking. He's got some scars, but they don't really take away from him. He's got platinum blond hiar slicked back and I notice he has a sleeve tattoo on his forearm too.

"Hello."

"Are you nervous?"

"A little I guess. But I mean, this is my last one."

"Oh, yeah, lucky you. One more and you're done."

"Hm. Yeah."

There's a brief pause. "My name is Job. Markov."

He gets that sweep of confusion across his face and I smile a bit. "Um, Heiko. Spate."

"Nice to meet you!"

He looks a bit confused but offers a smile. "Yeah, you too."

"Next!" the lady at the table calls, and I realize that's him.

"Oh. Well, good luck Heiko!" I say, waving.

"Thanks, Job." He goes to get checked in and soon I follow. In the crowd of seventeen-year-old females, somehow I'm able to find Denali. She immediately takes my hand, looking nervous.

Soon, Landon Barnes steps up on the stage. He could almost be normal by our standards. His skin is just too tan, his teeth too white. His brown hair is pulled back in a ponytail today, probably to bring out attention to the cowboy hat on his head. Along with a plaid shirt left unbuttoned to show off his abs, ripped skinny jeans, worn cowboy boots and a belt with a giant buckle displaying District Three's logo, he looks extremely out of place.

"Welcome everyone, to the reaping for the Sixty-First annual Hunger Games. Yee haw!" he seems to expect applause at that, but as usual, the crowd is silent, causing him to huff. "Fine. Let's just watch the video." It plays, the Treaty is read, and soon it's come to the worst part of the day.

"First, I will pick the male tribute!" Landon says. "Give a big darned welcome to… Heiko Spate!" My heart drops. Now I think I know why I was pulled toward him before. That isn't just dumb luck. I immediately know that I want to visit him afterward. Sure enough, the boy I had just talked to steps out from the eighteen-year-old section. He looks angry, fists clenched, face set like stone as he made his way up the steps. My heart absolutely breaks for him.

"Next, the female." He walks over to the other bowl. Denali squeezes my hand tightly. "Let's give a warm Western welcome to…" His face creases in confusion as he reads the name, and in that second I immediately feel totally calm. "Job Markov?"

Denali's grip tightens.

"No," she breaths, as I let go of her hand. "Let me volunteer for you. Job!"

"Please. Don't. I'll be fine. Hold your place. I won't allow you to."

"Job!" she shouts, but I turn away from her and start to the stage, keeping as brave a face as I can. Heiko has some unreadable expression in his eyes when I meet them.

"Are you sure we have no volunteers?" Landon asks, looking a bit excited as I hear Navigator sobbing and Tip screaming my name. Denali screams and cries, my name, but she doesn't say those two fateful words. "Ugh. Bummer. Anyways, tributes, please shake hands."

It's not until I hear Ether's voice crack as he screams, "JOB! NO! PLEASE!" that my eyes start to fill with tears and a small sob bursts out of me before I can stop it.

"Panem, your tributes, Job Markov and Heiko Spate! Presented by the wonderful Landon Barnes, of course!"

Heiko frowns as we turn around to walk back to the Justice Building and I quiver, holding in sobs until I reach the goodbye room.

.

-Ott Travers, 15, District 4-

 _8:00 A.M._

I wake up the next morning with tear-stained cheeks. After the movie and all, I felt better, but I couldn't help crying when I was alone. I just had to let it out, I couldn't keep it all in anymore.

Today is a new day, though. I just have to keep going, prove to everyone that tries to stand in my way that I'm simply not going to let them slow me down. It's an upward climb, but I'm ready to do it. I can be whatever I want to be, after all.

I get dressed in a light blue polo shirt, cargo shorts, and a bowtie, the same deep sea-green as my eyes. (What can I say, sometimes I can be vain. It's a great way to cope with everyone else knocking me down.) I wear my typical shark tooth necklace, but put it under my shirt.

I smile when I look in the mirror. I actually pass pretty well, with my short mop of dark brown hair combed neatly. I'm glad I have a small chest, it makes it easier to pass and someday I'm going to have them cut off anyways. Someday.

I head down to the kitchen for breakfast. Both of my parents are probably still asleep, so I make breakfast for myself.

 _Ott, the professional chef. All of his friends are slightly pudgy because they just can't resist what he makes for them. He is very talented and has the palette of a prodigy. He spends his days sweating in the hot kitchen, cooking away for Panem's most esteemed people. Perhaps he'd be invited to be the President's Head Chef. Or better, he becomes the personal chef for District Four's beloved mayor, and somehow accidentally poisons his favorite meal. Uh oh, that means it would actually be…_

 _Ott, the criminal on the run. He takes his smoking hot spouse and together they go on an amazing adventure from District to District, while hiding from the authority. His life is action-packed and he beats up Peacekeepers and eats nails for breakfast, because that's what street life is like shit the eggs are burning!_

I quickly turn off the heat and put the rubbery brown scrambled eggs into a bowl. Whoops. I butter my toast and pour myself a glass of orange juice. Yeah, so maybe my daydreams are a bit out there, but I can't help getting lost in my thoughts. My mother constantly lectures me about picking a career path, considering right now I have no idea what will happen in my future. She told me that by the time I turn sixteen I should have a career goal. If I want to be a tribute, I have to train. If I want to aim for something smart, I should focus on school. If I want to carry on the business from my father, I need to focus on arithmetic and shadow him to learn about business, blah blah blah. I just don't want to commit. I much prefer playing it by ear and seeing where it goes.

My father is awake before I finish eating. He immediately starts fanning under his nose, but hey, at least the smoke detector didn't go off this time.

"Morning," he coughs.

"Sorry 'bout that," I say sheepishly. "Morning."

"Feeling better?"

I take a breath. It still hurts, it will always hurt, but I can distract myself.

"I'll get there. I'm going to see Team Starfish today though so I think I'll be alright."

"You just have to remember to be on time for the reaping. Remember, it starts at nine-thirty sharp."

"Yeah, I know." Truth is I'm not too worried for the reaping. I mean, it's just a thing that happens, and none of us actually have a chance at being picked, right? We're just a bunch of random kids in a District full of people, some of whom want to volunteer. Just because there isn't an official one doesn't mean that there isn't a girl there willing to go into the Games in someone else's place, right? We should be fine.

"Alright. I'll see you after then. Remember to wear sunscreen."

I sigh a bit. My parents are very adamant about sunscreen. "Of course." I apply some to my face and neck, and put on a hat because it makes me feel more confident somehow. Like some kind of jock.

 _Ott the professional baseball player…_ That makes me laugh. That's simply absurd.

I do backtrack to give my father one last hug goodbye before I head out to meet my friends. We have the same meeting place every Saturday afternoon and on special days, like today. I light up when I see my friends there. I'm so goddamn happy to see them.

"There you are Bottlenose!" Squid says, giving me a double high-five in greeting.

"We were starting to think you'd died," Jellyfish teases, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"Nope, I'm still swinging," I say cheerfully.

"I'm glad!" chirps Guppy.

I can't help feeling so happy. I hold up the pointer and middle finger of my right hand. "Everybody in!" I chirp. All five of us do the same, and when we put all our fingers together it makes the shape of a star that has become so familiar to us. "Ready? Three, two, one!" After the countdown, we all chant "Team Starfish!" happily as we throw our hands up.

This whole group started when I met Nixi, AKA Jellyfish, when we were eleven. We went through horrible angsty preteen phases together before I came out as trans at thirteen. Word spread like wildfire, that's how I met Riley, also called Lobster because of that one day he forgot sunscreen and burned red as a lobster. One day Riley just appeared and started asking questions. He was curious, not mean, and soon we became good friends. After that, his little sister Ada started tagging along with us. We call her Guppy because she's the youngest at thirteen. Vireo, AKA Squid, was one of the last to join. He was a quiet, lonely kid that we just kind of adopted. He was really hesitant to go into the deeper part of the ocean, but once he learned how he joined the group for good, hungry for more adventure. And I'm Bottlenose. Partially because it has Ott in it. Jellyfish remembers that time when I was eleven and thought I was amazing at dolphin impersonations. That was like my party trick. And I wasn't very good at it. She still holds that embarrassing memory over my head. That's alright, though, I have plenty of hers to fire back with.

Anyways, when there was five of us, we proclaimed ourselves Team Starfish, because of the handshake that looked like a star. Pretty clever, if I do say so myself.

"So, are you going to be with me this year?!" Lobster asks, eyes hopeful. As of now, none of the Team is in the same section. We're all in the same grade except Guppy, it's all in how the ages turned out in relation to the reaping. Jellyfish is in the sixteens for vagina-wielders, and Squid is in the sixteens for dick-wielders. I'll be forced to be in the fifteens for vagina-wielders, and Lobster is in the fifteens for dick-wielders. And Guppy, of course, is in the thirteen-year-olds. If I only got passage to the right section this year, at least Lobster and I could have been together. Ugh, if only our mayor wasn't such a cunt-nugget.

I deflate a bit, moving the hat on my head awkwardly. "Not this year."

My friends all groan sympathetically. "I'm sorry Otty," Nixi says quietly.

"It's alright," I sigh. "I'll just have to show them that nothing will stop me!"

"That's a good way to think about it!" Guppy says enthusiastically.

"So, what are you thinking for after the reaping?" Lobster asks excitedly.

"I dunno. Maybe some surfing?" I shrug. "We could always go back to the cave I guess, I just want to catch some waves."

"Sounds good to me!" Jellyfish says, and the others agree.

"C'mon, let's head to town. Today's the only day for those big reaping day deals, after all!" We all laugh. We don't really shop very much, but it's fun to look in the windows and imagine what could have been.

We walk down to town. By the time we get there, I'm sweating from the heat of the sun. I pick up my hat to run a hand through my hair.

"Look there!" Squid says, and then we're following him quickly through the crowds to get to whatever he had fixated on. I don't get there, instead I bump straight into someone who is also moving quickly to some store and stumble back.

"Auf!"

"Woah! Sorry about that," he says, pushing back his hair. His brown eyes sparkle as he smiles at me. "You okay?"

"Y-Yeah," I say dumbly.

"You big oaf," the girl with him says, flicking his ear. "Watch where you're going."

He laughs as she nuzzles his neck as they walk away. No wonder someone like him is taken.

"Do you know who that is?!" Lobster asks as we walk the other way.

"No. Who?"

"That's Garrett Wylde!"

"Wait, you mean, the guy that's gonna volunteer?"

"Yeah, the exact one!"

I glance behind me, but he's disappeared in the crowd. "Oh. Wow. I didn't know that was him! Then again, I've only ever heard his name. But I never imagined he'd be so… Hot."

Lobster bursts out laughing. "You think everything that has a pulse is hot," he says.

"Hey, a boy can dream, right?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he says as we catch up with the others.

"Ott has that look on his face," Jellyfish says, "Who was it now?"

"You're never gonna believe this," I say, "Garrett Wylde."

"You're right, I don't believe it," Squid says teasingly.

"No, I was there!" Lobster says. "It was really him!"

"What was he wearing? We'll see if it was really him when he volunteers."

I think. What was he wearing? I didn't exactly notice.

"Green polo with a yellow collar, khaki pants, a brown belt I think," Lobster says.

"We'll see," Jellyfish says, rolling her eyes but smiling.

"So, what was it that we just had to get over here to see?" I ask.

"Look at that sailboat."

It was really pretty, I have to admit. Perfectly shiny and white, small but not too small…

 _Ott the sailor. Spending his life on the high sea, catching fish and making a hard-earned living. Every day he wakes up in the wee hours of the morning to go out on the ocean and catch hundreds of fish with his giant net with a couple crewmates. Even when storms come, the crew courageously goes out to sea. The boat rocks as water pours over the edge, was that lightning?! It was a risky life, but the payoff was well worth it. Ott the sailor would dock the boat and come back home, sopping wet. His unfairly attractive spouse would be there to greet him with lots of kisses, telling him how worried about him they were! And-_

"You coming?" Jellyfish asked, and I laugh sheepishly, following my friends. "Yeah, right." We walk around, pushing through the crowds and window-shopping. I just enjoy the time I have with them.

I pass the Rutherfords, trying to catch Brock's eye. He sees me and smiles, but his mother whispers something that causes him to frown and look away. I don't have much time to think about being sad, though, because my friends drag me around so fast I can barely stop to think. I think Nixi has an idea something's up, because she keeps the conversation totally upbeat, which I appreciate.

"We should probably get line to be registered," she says, and the rest of us agree. Luckily, the line is super duper long. We have plenty of time to play Miss Mary Mack, Concentration, I Spy, and other nonsense games while we wait.

Squid stops short just then and looks nervously behind him. "Sharks," he whispers. We follow his glance, and sure enough, not too far from us are the Sharks. The Sharks are the meanest people in school. They always pick on people, and since we stand up to them, we're their biggest targets.

"Hammerhead looks predatory," whispers Lobster.

The leader of the ring, Elio Rodgers, is the worst of them all. We call him Hammerhead. Sure enough, when he notices us, he gets that mean smirk on his face.

"Ready to get reaped, mincemeat?!" he calls, causing us to scowl.

"Oh, grow up!" Jellyfish calls back. "Let's just ignore them." We all turn back around, but don't resume our games.

"Pattycake's going to do _wonders_ for you in the Games!" he shouts, causing the other Sharks to laugh. Squid tenses, but I give him a side-eye.

"Don't," I say quietly. "Be the bigger person."

Great White yells out, "Are you PMSing, Travers? Boys don't have periods you know?!"

I clench my fists, not turning around as they all laugh.

"Bet you're gonna look so fucking stupid with all the other girls! It's not Halloween, you know!? Your time to dress up as a boy is long past!" Great White calls out again, causing more laughter from the other sharks. I clench my fists as Jellyfish and Squid put their arms around my shoulders.

I feel nothing but thankful when we reach the front of the line. We're checked in and soon we have to separate to the different sections.

 _Just fifteen minutes_ , I tell myself. _Then it'll all be over._

I feel nothing but uncomfortable standing alone in the fifteen-year-old females section. Great White's comments play around in my head, and I do everything to try and ignore them. _After the reaping_ , I tell myself. _After the reaping, we'll go surfing and it won't even matter_. I don't talk to anyone, and no one talks to me. Everyone else around me is wearing their cute little sundresses, so I must stick out like nobody's business. I can't help but feel insecure, which is why I'm glad when the asshole mayor starts the reaping.

The Treaty of Treason is read, we watch the video, and Evianna Pecora takes the stage. She's been our escort for like, ever, as long as I can remember. Her mint green skin makes her look other-worldly, the dark green tattoos on her arms and legs making her look even more like an alien. She has light blue hair that is perfectly wavy, framing her starfish face tattoo. I always joked with my friends that we'd get matching face tattoos someday. That makes me laugh a bit to myself. We definitely want to get matching starfish tattoos, but definitely not on the face. I suggested ankles. Someday, when we're old enough.

"Welcome District Four, to the reaping for the Sixty-First annual Hunger Games." The crowd applauds, so I clap too. Might as well.

"We will start this year with the male tribute." I wait excitedly as she picks a name.

"Stroker Harman." The boy comes from the sixteen section. Damn, he's hot… my mind almost starts to wander, but Evianna asks for volunteers and I snap out of it.

"I volunteer!" Sure enough, Lobster was right about his outfit. Garrett is smiling as he walks up to the stage.

"Wonderful, welcome! What is your name?"

"I'm Garrett Wylde, and I'm going to come home a Victor," he says confidently.

"Alright! Next, the female tribute." _Stroker Harman_. I'll have to remember that. He's only a year older than me, after all. Hm. "Ott Travers."

I hear my name announced and look up in surprise. Everyone looks around, confused. That's me. I put on a smile and walk to the stage, waving happily. No biggie. I step up and smile at the crowd. All eyes are on me. I can't say I mind that.

"Are there any volunteers for Ott here?"

I wait patiently for someone to speak up. Slowly, though, I realize that there must not be any vagina-wielders that want to go into the Games this year. _Wait, but… That means…_

"Alright. Tributes, please shake hands."

Garrett smiles and squeezes my hand firmly.

 _My path has been chosen for me._

* * *

 **Goodbyes**

-Job Markov, 17, District 3-

 _9:15 A.M._

The Kleins visit me first. They both hug me and tell me how proud of me they are, which causes me to smile a bit. I thank them again for taking me in when I'd been kicked out, helping me change my name, everything. They have some of the younger orphans with them, including little India, all of who hug me tightly, even though they have no idea where I'm going.

My friends come in next, and all of them, except Ether, hug me immediately. Nobody talks. There are too many broken hearts in this room for words to convey anything. I let the tears flow and sob with them. I can't hold it back anymore.

"I should have vo-volunteered," Denali sobbed, burying her head in my shoulder.

"No, you shouldn't have," I say, sniffling and wiping my nose. "I wouldn't have forgiven myself."

"What are you going to do!?" Tip asks, grabbing my arm.

"I don't know," I say quietly. "I don't know."

"How could this happen?!" Amalia sobbed, "You did everything right!"

"I know." I sniffle and try to keep control. "So-Sometimes, bad things happen to good people. But they happen fo-r go-good reasons."

"How can you believe that?!" Ether shouts, slamming his fist against the wall angrily. "You're going to the goddamn Hu-Hunger Games!"

"I know." I sniffle. "But I still h-have faith. Th-They won't ever take that away fr-from me. C-Come here and hug me now," I tell him, and he crashes into my arms, sobbing loudly. I hug back tightly, rubbing his back. I honestly don't know what to do now. I don't know what to say.

I hug Denali next, then Navigator, Tip, Amalia, then Cas last.

I feel much calmer now, the tears subsiding. "Listen. You guys can keep going without me, alright?"

"Job!" Cas sobs, and I wipe his tears gently.

"I don't know what's going to happen to me, but if I die you have to understand that I died for something. And you have to keep going."

"Job…" whimpers Navigator.

"Sh… It'll be okay. Will you guys pray with me?" I don't even care that the Peacekeepers are probably watching. I take Ether and Tip's hands in mine and everyone else joins hands, even Denali. Among the noises of sniffles, whimpers, and strained sobs, I pray. I pray for strength, for healing for my friends, for courage to make a change. I pray for Heiko, and his friends and family, through this horrible time. I pray for faith and wisdom in the coming weeks, for everyone. I even pray for Landon, and the Capitol. I pray that in oceans deep, my faith will stand. That's all I can ask for.

Just as I'm finishing off the prayer, the Peacekeepers are telling us time's up. We all have one more group hug, even Ether.

"I love you guys so much," I say quietly.

"We love you too!" they all respond, holding me tightly.

"Stay strong," I say, more tears forming in my eyes. "Have faith. Have courage."

They all promise they will as Peacekeepers storm in to escort them out.

Mr. Hauser visits next. He gives me a little spoon from the shop to take in as a token. I give him a hug and thank him for everything he did for me in the worst time. Once he leaves, I wait. I wonder if Lacie will come. Part of me hopes she does. That we can reconcile, and be friends again, try to get back what we lost. Maybe Erastus and Betsey, my siblings by birth, will realize that our parents are bigoted and misguided. But they don't. Nobody else comes to visit me.

I sigh as Landon guides Heiko and I out to the train. Soon, we're leaving everything I've ever known behind.

The great unknown.

Where feet may fail.

.

-Ott Travers, 15, District 4-

 _9:45 A.M._

My parents are the first to visit me. I don't realize what's happening until this moment, and everything starts to crash down. My father hugs me tightly, and I can feel that he's trying not to cry.

"Oh Ott…" he says quietly. There won't be a next year to get me in the right section.

"I know," I say quietly. "It'll be alright, though. I trained a little bit. I have that over a lot of others."

He doesn't say anything, and I can feel him shaking as he holds onto me tightly.

My mother is holding Brock's hand when she enters, which makes me smile again. Maybe without his parents there I can get through to him.

"Hey bud," I say, smiling at him. "What's up?"

He steps back, still frowning. He looks scared. "Mama told me you're bad," he said. "I don't want to be hurt!"

"Brock… I'm not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you…"

"Mama says-"

"Your mother is _wrong_."

He looks at me with wide eyes, shocked I would say such a thing. He shakes his head rapidly, then runs for the door quickly. I can't do anything. She's already made him afraid of me. That didn't take very long.

"I-I'm so sorry Ott," Mom stammers, shocked. "I-I thought he'd be happy to see you…"

"It's okay," I say, trying to keep the smile on even though I feel crushed. "You had good intentions."

I hug her tightly, and she hugs me back, obviously distraught.

"I love you Mom," I say quietly.

That's when she starts to cry. "I love you too, Otty. So much."

My Dad joins the hug too. "I love you too, Dad," I say quietly.

"I love you so much, Son," he says, hugging me tightly.

"I can still get back," I say. "Don't count me out."

"Fight for what's right, Ott," my father says, his voice quivering.

I give them both a teary smile. "Forever and always." We stay like that, hugging, until the Peacekeepers tell them they have to go. I have misty eyes when we say goodbye and they're escorted out, but stay calm. I can do this. It'll be fine.

The rest of Team Starfish visits next. They all look upset.

"Hey, don't worry guys…" I say, as Nixi hugs me tightly.

"You have to get back home, Otty," she says, sniffling slightly. "Please."

"Of course. I'll do everything I can. We trained together, I have some skills. I'll be fine. I'll get back home."

"You'd better!" Ada sobs, hugging me tightly as soon as Nixi lets go. "Please Otty!"

"I'll do my best."

"You have so much waiting for you back here," Riley says, taking me into a quick hug. "Do whatever it takes."

"Of course."

"For the Team," Vireo says, hugging me tightly.

"Of course," I say, smiling slightly. "For the Team. I'll be alright. Bring it in, you guys." I hold up my fingers, and we make the starfish together. We hold it for a while, studying every detail of our hands there together while we still can.

"Ready?" I look around at my friends. They all look absolutely devastated. Tears are streaming down Nixi's face, and Ada's face is red from crying as tears roll down her cheeks. Riley and Vireo have sad looks in their eyes. I give them my most confident smile. "If this is our last time, let's make it the best." I say, grinning at them. That causes Nixi to sob, but her eyes look determined. My friends all return my smile, even though tears and with misty eyes. A tear drips down Riley's face as I count down. "Three, two, one," and we all yell at the top of our lungs, "TEAM STARFISH!" as we throw our hands up.

I smile at them all. "That was definitely the best one ever," I say, as we all huddle together in a tight group hug. Nixi and Ada sob loudly, and I can hear Riley whimper and Vireo's silent tears drip on the ground. "I love you guys so much. Thanks for being around in the worst of times."

"I love you too!" Nixi sobs, and soon the others echo with the same thing.

"I'll make it back to you all. Just wait." They're still crying as they're escorted out of the room.

I sigh. Phew. Made it without breaking down.

The door opens just then, and I immediately feel confused. If it's my Aunt and Uncle, I don't want to see them. I blink in surprise when I see the boy standing there. It's Hammerhead.

"Hi," he says, awkwardly.

"What do you want," I ask, scowling and crossing my arms.

"I just…" he looks around, nervously, and I notice his eyes are brimmed with tears. "What Vince said back there, it wasn't… It wasn't cool. I… I just… I wanted to apologize."

I blink in surprise. "Wh…What?"

"I went along with the other guys because I thought it was cool. But… I don't… I don't actually want to see you die…" his voice cracks and he stares at his feet. "I… I thought it was just… I thought… I don't know what I thought. But… This put a lot of things into perspective. I don't want you to die. I don't want anyone to die."

"Oh…"

"I'm really sorry for everything I did and said. And… I don't… I know that I don't really deserve forgiveness, and you don't have to forgive me, but I wanted you to know that I'm sorry. And I won't bother your friends anymore. And I hope you win because… I don't want you to die. You're not a bad person." He sighs quietly. "I am," he whispers.

That puts everything into its horrible perspective. Tears form in my eyes at the realization that I might not come out of this alive. I very well might die. Garrett is trained to kill people, and I could easily be one of his victims. I don't want to die! I start to panic, my heart pounds, I squeeze my eyes shut.

"Travers?" he asks quietly.

"I forgive you!" I sob. "Re-Really, I do. I… Than-Thank you for apologi-gizing," I stammer out, tears rolling down my cheeks.

"Oh… But…"

"I kn-I know," I sob quietly. "But i-f I'm go-going to di-e, I wanted yo-you to kn-ow," I sniffle.

He frowns, and when he glances up I notice the trail of a tear tracing his cheek.

"I'm going to stand up to them," he says, "For you. I promise. I'll make Vince sorry he said those things."

That thought makes me smile a little bit through the tears. "Thanks," I gasp. I don't really know what else to say. He doesn't seem like he has anything else to say either.

"Fight your hardest, okay? You can win. I don't… I don't want you to die, man."

"Ok-kay," I say quietly, in between sobs. He leaves wordlessly, and almost as soon as he's gone, the Peacekeepers are collecting us to go on the train.

The train, to the Games.

The Games, with a trained killer. I never ever thought I would be reaped like this, not in a million years.

I stare out the window as we speed away, immediately feeling homesick. This isn't just a fantasy, or some kind of game, not even a crazy dream… This is serious. All I can do is watch the trees fly by and wonder…

 _How the hell am I going to do this!?_

~.~.

 _ **A/N: Yay, another even longer chapter! That feel when you write almost 4000 words of Job in the WRONG TENSE. I literally wrote her first section and half of her second section in third person past, when this story is first person present. Literal OPPOSITES. UGH. So yeah, I spent an hour changing it all (ugh, EDITING. It's almost like PROOFREADING. UGH. Who would PROOFREAD?)**_

 _ **Also, to clear up any confusion you may have: Job is bigender, and uses she/her or he/him pronouns. He's really lax about that. Just in case his POVs weren't clear enough. Also, Otty is a boy, he/him pronouns only for him.**_

 _ **So, I hope you liked this reaping chapter! Even though it is long, oh well, lol. There are still some escort spots open if you're interested in submitting one of those!**_

 _ **Thanks so much to GalacticCoach and TheEngineeringGames for Heiko and Garrett respectively! Hope I did well with them, and we'll definitely see plenty more of both of them later! :)**_

 _ **Reviews are always appreciated, of course! Thanks for all your lovely support!**_

 _ **Chapter Question: What did you think of Job and Ott? Which did you like better and why?**_


	4. Landslides

**Pre-Reapings**

-Turtle D'Angelo, 13, District 5-

 _7:30 P.M._

It's always a treat when I can get Python to dance with me.

I love when we get to use that old radio he fixed up. Sometimes it catches some waves from Capitol radio that the Peacekeepers use. It's somewhat rare that we actually pick up music, but tonight is one of those amazing nights where it's crystal clear.

Dancing is always fun, but it's much more fun when you have someone there to bounce around with you and spin you around. Python noticed me tinkering with the radio after dinner so he sat with me until we picked something up. Now the room is full of music, and for the first time in forever, Python is up on his feet with me. My brother's a great dancer, even if he doesn't do it very much, so when he takes my hand and puts another on my shoulder, I squeeze his hand and let him guide me around the room.

He has olive eyes that always light up when he's having fun, and for the first time in forever they have that glint to them.

"You're such a good dancer!" I say, as he holds my hand up high so I can spin around.

"I don't know about that, but thanks!" he says, laughing.

Our little shenanigans are interrupted when the door is pushed open and a familiar figure stands there. When I notice who it is, Python drops my hands and a blush breaks through his dark complexion, the music still playing loudly in the background.

"Hey," Python says awkwardly.

"I didn't know you danced," the man in the doorway said, his voice hard to read.

"Oh, um, not very often-"

"Python's a really good dancer, Uncle Gaylen!" I chime in happily. "You should see him go!"

"I noticed!" he says, his brown eyes alight in amusement as he comes in and closes the door behind him.

"Shush," Python grumbles.

Gaylen smirks at him, an amused glint in his eyes. "Only if you dance with me." He held his hand out to Python. "What do you say?"

"Well... Alright. Fine."

I can't help beaming when Python takes his hand and puts the other on his waist. The song is upbeat and cheery, and I don't mind dancing on my own. I have to practice looking pretty while I dance with a cute guy, anyways. Soon, though, I decide I want to change.

"I'll be right back!" I say over the music. "I'm going to put a skirt on that'll puff when I spin around!" I leave to change quickly, but by the time I'm out of my jeans and in the skirt, the song changed. This song is much slower, and when I look around the doorway, I see Python and Gaylen swaying slowly, easily, to the song. I don't want to ruin their moment, so I just stay back and watch from a distance.

These kinds of moments are the moments that make me think that maybe this relationship is different than the others Python has. They're in an open relationship, which means that Python still has different people over, but those people never care about me. Gaylen does, though. He cares a lot.

My brother met Gaylen when they were both out at the market. Somehow they started talking about super smart arithmetic stuff or whatever, and Gaylen asked Python if he wanted to partner up and work on a new prosthetic leg for his older sister Sadie, who is a Victor. And Python, of course, said yes. It's a very well-paying job and this is the longest we've ever stayed in one place. Usually we're travelling all over the place, going from school to school, because Python wants me to get the most expansive education possible. But now we've stayed here for multiple months. It's kind of nice, honestly.

Not long after they partnered for the project, they started having sex. But it's these moments that make me wish that Python would keep this one and never let him go. Gaylen treated me like I was his little sister too, and I've never been treated like that by one of Python's partners before. This one is different, I know he is. And the way they're swaying together, in the dim light of our tiny living room, the radio cracking a bit as the slow song plays, makes me _know_ that he's different. Unlike Python's other partners, Gaylen takes care of him. He's so nice. All I want is for him to come live with us forever. They have chemistry. They're similar, with the same messy, thick black hair and extremely intelligent minds. And they balance each other out. I just sit and watch, daring to pretend just for a minute that they're dancing at their wedding, for which I was a flower girl, and smile at the thought of Uncle Gaylen moving in forever.

Soon, though, I have to come back to reality and remember that this is probably just like all of Python's other relationships, where he'll see them until he's bored with them and then leave. I just… God, I can't help hoping that this is different. I don't mind Python's promiscuous nature, I really don't, but… I don't know. I guess I've just seen Python in some bad times, and this is the happiest and most rational he's ever been.

Python's other partners didn't care. I worry about him, sleeping with so many people that really don't care about him. This one _cares_ , though. Most of Python's other partners would laugh at the ridiculous sight of him dancing with his little sister, but not this one.

I just smile and go back to my fantasy. What a joyful day. Python is married and it was the happiest day of his life. I take a very attractive boy to the wedding as my date. Or better, an attractive boy notices that I look beautiful and comes to talk to me and ask me to dance and he's all nervous about it. Oh, and I have a cool hat. I'm definitely wearing a cool hat.

I'm snapped out of my fantasy of white dresses and organ music when the music is fast again and Gaylen calls, "C'mon Turtle, you're missing it!"

I grin as I come back out. Usually Python's other partners would have dragged him to the bedroom by now, but not this one. This one cares. He wants to spend time not just with Python, but with me! He even takes the time to pick me up and twirl me around, which makes me laugh. Soon, Python's showing off his best moves, the ones he usually only shows to me, and I can't help but grin as Gaylen laughs and compliments him and tries (and fails) to imitate him. My smile is ear-to-ear for those blissful moments, when I can imagine the two of them together, no other partners in the picture, having a good time. How we could do this every day if Python would only see how much Gaylen cares.

Soon, the signal blips and turns to static, causing all of us to stop, still laughing and panting from constantly moving around.

"That was fun!" Gaylen says.

I plop down on the floor. "Yeah," I giggle.

"You guys are both really good dancers," he says, smiling over at me.

"And you've… Got a lot of heart," Python teases, which causes the other man to laugh.

"Oh, that reminds me! Turtle, this is for you!" He hands me a small book and a brand new mechanical pencil.

"What's this?" I ask, examining the numbers and squares.

"It's called sudoku. It's a logic puzzle." He briefly explains the premise, then adds that it's harder than it looks.

"Thanks," I say, smiling. Gaylen always brings things for me. Most of them are things to pass the time while Python's fucking his lights out, but at least I can say the gifts are extremely thoughtful.

"Sure thing! It's actually pretty fun once you get into it."

"I assume that I'm gonna leave you to your devices now?" I ask, amused.

Gaylen gives me slightly apologetic look, and Python laughs. "Good luck with your puzzle," he says.

I laugh a bit. "Yeah, good luck with your sex."

Python is laughing as I leave the house, sitting outside and opening the book. I smile a little bit at knowing that this book is just for me. This one cares so much… He's perfect. I hug the book to my chest and imagine having two guardians. It's just such a good thought… Everyone involved would just be so happy… Then I do start to work at the puzzle. And I actually do enjoy it. I lose track of time, it's addicting once I get started.

Soon, Python comes to get me and the three of us sit at the kitchen table together, talking and losing track of time. Gaylen even gives me a hug before he leaves. After that, Python and I head back to bed and say goodnight. I change into my PJs, smiling as I crawl into bed, hoping that I'll dream about being a flower girl with a cool hat.

…

I wake up with tears rolling down my cheeks. I barely remember what I was dreaming about, but I remember that it was absolutely terrifying. Probably something having to do with the Games, with the reaping tomorrow and everything. Er… Later today, I guess. I lay back down, but the second I close eyes, visions of the dream come back. I know that there's no way I'll be able to go back to sleep.

I sit up and sigh. _Dammit_. I take the scrappy old blanket off of my bed and walk slowly to Python's bedroom. He'll know what to do. I sniffle and wipe my nose on my arm before I go into the room. Python is sprawled out on his bed, snoring quietly. He's actually sleeping, I should let him be…

I turn around to leave, but I hear him stir. I brace myself for his getting up and putting his fists up. For some reason he hates to be awakened, it freaks him out. He's always ready to fight. He says it's because of nightmares, and I believe him. At least it's something that isn't the fault of the voices.

"Turtle?" he says groggily, reaching up to wipe his eyes.

"Yeah," I say quietly. "It's just me."

"What…?" He rolls over to look at the small clock that blinks the big numbers that proclaim that it's really fucking early.

"I had a bad dream. I'm sorry."

"Oh, I see." He moves over and opens his arms to me.

"Isn't thirteen a little old to cope with nightmares by cuddling?" I ask, genuinely concerned. I don't want to be weird. A lot of people already think I am just because I don't have parents.

"I still cope with bad dreams by cuddling," he says.

"Okay." I smile a little bit and crawl into bed with him. It smells like sweat, sex, but it's Python. My brother. The only constant I've ever had and the only one I'll have forever.

"Wanna talk about it?" he asks quietly, his voice still deep and husky from having just awakened.

I stare up at the ceiling, where there was a little window that revealed the sky. He specifically took the time to put it up there so he could see the sky. He says it makes him more sane. I believe it.

"I think it was part of the Games," I say quietly.

"Ah," he says quietly. He's been free of them for a while now, but I've just started them. "Don't worry about that, my Turtle. You know that I'd never let anything bad happen to you, don't you?" He strokes my hair gently. His hands are rough, but they're his, and that's what matter. I feel his steady breathing and realize that I'd be absolutely lost without him. I'd probably be a sad orphan on a street corner or something.

"Of course," I say quietly, pulling his blanket up close to my face.

"If you got reaped, well, I'd get up on that stage and take your place."

I laugh a little bit at that, even though I hate to even think about my name being pulled out of that stupid bowl. "You're a twenty-five-year-old man," I say quietly.

"I know," he says quietly, smiling into my hair. "Alright, then I'd go punch the escort in the goddamn face, that's what I'd do. Or, you know what, I'd go and take the smallest twelve-year-old, and I would just catapult her up on the stage to take your place, how about that?"

I laugh a little bit, but can't help but feel the sting of tears forming in my eyes. "They'd kill you if you did any of that," I say quietly.

"Yeah, well, then I'd die for you."

I look at him, my eyes still misty. He sounds too serious for me to be comfortable. "Don't actually do that," I say. "Please. I would hate if you died for me."

He sighs quietly. "Fine."

"Promise me." I glare up at him to show that I am very serious about this. That's what I love about Python. I may just be thirteen, but he takes me seriously. I could never ask for better.

"Fine. I promise. Nothing bad's gonna happen to you anyways."

I smile a bit. "I know. But just in case it does."

"They wouldn't dare reap you, my little Turtle."

I giggle. "Why did Mom and Dad name me Turtle again?"

He smiles a bit. "I'm named after a programming language called Python. And you're named after this little cursor called a turtle that you can program to do different things."

"Like what?"

"Like… Draw things."

"Penises?" I ask. That gets him to laugh, and I close my eyes and smile at the way his chest puffs with laughter.

"Yes, Turtle. Penises."

"Great, I'm named after a cursor that can draw penises."

"That's quite a legacy to live up to," Python teases, and I giggle, looking up at the darkness of the night sky, wishing to see the stars peek through the smoke and clouds.

"Python…"

"Yeah Turtle?"

I bite my lip, not sure if I want to ask a personal question right now. "Why…?"

"Hm?"

"Is there a reason…"

"Yes?"

"Is there a reason that you and Gaylen aren't… Exclusive?"

He freezes. "What?"

"Sorry, I just… I don't know, I just… You guys are really happy together, I was just wondering if there was a reason you weren't… Putting a ring on it."

Python lets out a loud chortle, that makes me jump. I hate when he does that, but he can't really control it. "There are lots of reasons we're not exclusive, Turtle."

My heart sinks to my stomach. "Oh," I say quietly. "I see."

There's a slight pause before he speaks up again quietly, stroking my hair. "None of those reasons are because I don't love him, though," he whispers into my hair.

That causes a smile to spread across my face. "Then what could they possibly be?"

"We're colleagues, for one."

"That's a lame reason."

"He's… He's rich. A Victor's brother. I'm just…" he laughs a bit. "Fucking nuts."

"That doesn't mean anything!"

"I don't know if he feels the same way."

"That's absurd! Of course he does! He cares about us! So much!"

Python sighs quietly into my hair. "Caring and loving aren't always the same thing," he whispers.

"Oh…"

We lay in silence again, him stroking my hair and me feeling him breathe. I start to feel sleepy again, but I can't help the thought that nags in the back of my head. I know that now isn't a good time to ask about our parents, but I can't control the question. Python answers all of my questions, I don't understand why he won't just answer this one.

"What happened to Mom and Dad?"

I feel him tense. "They died," he says.

"So you said. How, though? What happened to them? What were they like?"

"You don't need to know. They were bad and they're dead now and you don't have to even give a single thought to them."

"But I want to think about them. They're our parents! Don't you ever think about them and miss them?"

"No. Never."

"Python… Please… I don't even know their names. Will you at least tell me that?"

"No."

I glare up at him. "Why not?"

"Because they're not important. You have me now."

"I know, and I owe everything to you. But… I'm just curious, that's all. Won't you tell me anything about them? It doesn't even have to be good, just anything."

Python sighs. "Mothers are terrible and there's no reason they should exist," he says. "All they're good for is nagging and scolding. And fathers are like mothers but even worse."

"You told me all that already."

He sighs. "You caught me, I did."

"Well?" I look up at him expectantly. "Please Python. I'm thirteen now, I'm a teenager. I just want to know about them."

"Alright, fine. Mom died in a power plant accident. Dad…" he squeezes his eyes shut for a minute and opens them and I get the feeling that this is painful for him to talk about. "Offed himself three days later."

I stare up at him, wide-eyed. I never thought he would actually tell me, but I'm glad he did. I wrap my arms around him. "I'm so sorry… You were only twelve when that happened, right?"

"Yeah, just twelve."

"And you went through all that for me?"

"I had to."

I wrap my arms around his neck in a tight hug. He hugs back tightly, holding me close. "Thank you," I whisper quietly. "Thank you for taking care of me."

"Sure thing, kid," he says, smiling softly at me. "Feeling better now?"

"Yeah, a little. But I think I want to stay here just a little longer, if that's alright."

He smiles and pats my head. "Alright." He puts an arm around me, and I snuggle into it, smiling slightly. I feel closer to him than ever. I can only imagine the pain he lived through at losing both parents so young, being stuck with nothing but his baby sister and having to build a life from there. Lucky he's so smart, or else I have no idea how he would have made it.

I close my eyes and feel nothing but peaceful in that moment. I know that it's all going to be alright. My brother is by my side and with him I can take on the world.

Before long, I hear Python snoring quietly, and when I look up I see him drooling, fast asleep. I know that I couldn't slide out from his grasp without disturbing him, so I just stay there, staring up at the infinite blackness that is the sky until sleep washes over me and I close my eyes.

.

-Twyla Frisk, 17, District 7-

 _4:55 P.M._

My stomach grumbles as I walk home from work, but I know that I'm not going to eat dinner if Maddox touched it. I hear the heavy footsteps of boots approaching me and calling my name.

"Twyla! Hey!" I slow my pace, but cross my arms and scowl. Everyone is usually scared away by my glare, and I like it that way. I don't need them to come talk to me. I don't want or need their pity. I just want to live my life how it was without everyone feeling like they need to baby me just because of what happened to my sister. And it was all because of stupid Maddox.

I don't want to talk to anyone, but I know that Frax will catch up with me anyways, whether I like it or not. And, I guess that of everyone I talk to, he's the least terrible. Well, second least. Harry is probably the least. I keep walking, though, barely giving him a small nod of acknowledgment.

"Hard day of work, eh?" he asks, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Just another normal day," I say. He always asks me this question, and I always give him the same response. I would just throw him off to the side completely if I wasn't so devoted to routine. Ever since Annie died, I've been devoted to routine. I like everything to be the same every day, and if that means I have to endure conversations with Frax Gallen on the way home from work, then so be it.

"Yeah, true." He says, giving me a smile. I just grunt and keep walking. We walk in silence, thankfully, but soon my stomach growls and I can't help but look down, embarrassed.

"D…Do you want a snack?" Frax asks, going to grab something from his bag.

"I…" I sigh. "Yes." Frax's kindness disgusts me, but I can't help wanting some food. After all, if Maddox touches dinner, I'm not going to eat it. That asshole is going to poison my food, he wants to kill me, he wants to kill me just like he killed my sister! That asshole. I will never trust him, ever!

Frax hands me a granola bar from his backpack. "Here you are."

I take a bite. It doesn't taste particularly good to me, but at least I know this isn't poisoned. Frax couldn't possibly hurt a goddamn fly, I'm convinced of it. If I thought he could, I wouldn't even talk to him. The both of us keep walking, quietly, neither saying anything. He can chatter all he wants, but I still don't really care nor will I really listen. Like always, we just walk together, neither of us talking. Frax is not good at walking, though, because he occasionally steps to the side, accidentally brushing against my shoulder. I just cross my arms and keep going, not saying anything.

Soon, we get to the fork where we separate, and just like every day, Frax gives me a small wave and a smiling "See ya tomorrow."

"Bye," I say, before adding. "Thanks. For the food."

He beams at me, gray eyes glinting happily. "You're very welcome!" he says cheerfully. "And Twyla?"

I glance over. "What?"

His eyes become sad. "Good luck. At the reaping."

"Yeah," I grunt, crossing my arms. He starts to walk away as I awkwardly mutter, "You too."

I start on my way home slowly. I don't want to go there. I don't want to be in that house with that evil, evil man and his spawn. I don't want to go home to that place that doesn't even feel like home anymore. Not without her there. Not after he _killed_ her. How can they not see?!

I see my house and stop walking, taking a deep breath. I don't want to go in. I really don't want to go in. I have to prepare myself for it. I take a deep breath before pulling the door open and going in slowly. I look around the room, making sure he's not hiding with his gun, ready to shoot me just like he shot my sister! My hands shake as I turn on the dim light that hangs over the ceiling, but the room is empty.

"Hey," Bard says, waving a bit. _It's his spawn. It's his horrible evil spawn. Why is his evil horrible spawn talking to me?_

I don't answer him, I go straight up to my room. I push the door open with all my might. Mom won't let me put a lock on my bedroom. But I have to protect it from him. Somehow I have to make sure all of my stuff is safe from him.

But he's a strong bastard. He could push the door open like I could. That's why I have strings all around, strings that he can get tangled in. I know that if the strings are out of place, the bastard got in. Luckily, though, all the strings are intact still, and everything is as it should be. Not a single knick-knack is out of place. As it should be. Someday I'll get a lock on my door, then I'll be sure that he can never, ever get in my room.

Once I'm in the room, I take the chair to my desk and jam it into the door so that the handle can't move. I would do this all the time, but it makes the door impossible to open and I need to get into my safe space. Now that nobody can open that door I'm safe from the horrible, terrible world. The murderer that lives _in my house_.

I look around the room to make sure that he's not waiting to jump out and kill me. I breathe a sigh of relief when I am absolutely positive that I'm alone and safe. I move the various decorations off my dresser. They're mostly little wooden dolls, some of them painted and some not. Some are mine, some were Annie's, but they're all pretty important. Once I move them, I grab the dresser, which is just about as tall as I am, and strain with effort to pull the dresser away from the wall so that I can reach behind it and find the leather-bound black book. If I ever lose this book, I will die. I will kill whoever took it. This is the only way I can even come close to proving it was him.

After my little sister was murdered, the Peacekeepers stopped investigating the case. They said that there was no definitive evidence and that it wasn't worth investigating further. But this is my _sister_! I refuse to stop until I have justice for Annie. I refuse to stop until I prove it was our dirty, no-good stepfather that killed her. I know it was him, I just know it was him! He hated her, he hated us, he was never nice to either of us! He went for her first because she had Down's Syndrome, and he killed her, and he's going to wait for everyone to trust him again and then he's going to take his gun and kill me too. I _have_ to put him in prison, for Annie. I _will_ get justice for my sister, even if the Capitol doesn't.

This is my sleuth's journal. Here is where I write down everything. I interviewed everyone that knew Annie about her death, and wrote their testimonies down word-by-word. Some of them, I've long-since crossed out, after confirming their alibi. Me, first of all. I was out at the market when it happened. I will never forgive myself for leaving her.

I've also crossed out other names. Bard was at school, and I got confirmation from his teachers and friends that he was there. Harry was home, his parents confirmed it. My mother was at work, and I talked to her entire team and their stories all lined up. I don't know what I would have done if it were her. I trust my mother more than anyone. She's in danger if she doesn't realize soon that it was him! It was that no-good man she chose to marry in place of my father! He hated us, especially Annie. He hated having a child with a disability even _consider_ taking his last name. He was the only one who was at the house when I got back and she was dead, and he had _blood_ on him! Checking her pulse my ass! He hated her, and he killed her, and he's going to kill me too so that the only children in his house are biologically his children!

I ball my fists as my eyes brim with tears. My heart aches for my sister. I miss her so much, all the time. She was sweet and kind, and a good person. If he actually cared enough to look past her disability, maybe he would have known that. How does my mother not understand that he's violent and dangerous?! He's yelled at her, she's seen it!

Tears try to come out of my eyes, but I quickly wipe them, swallowing them back down angrily. _No, Twyla. You can't cry. He'll know. He'll hear. He'll be happy that you're upset, he'll be satisfied. He wants you to cry Twyla. You can't._ I'm used to swallowing the tears by now. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of hearing me cry. No way Jose.

I look through the book. There are some that haven't been crossed out yet. I'll find out who killed her, though. I know that I will. I look through the book, the list of clues that we'd found. A drawing of the way the blood was splattered on the floor. Trying to figure out the trajectory of the bullet that hit her square in the chest. It was him, it had to have been him. He wasn't sad, he didn't feel bad, he was just faking so that nobody would suspect him. The bastard's good at what he does. During the funeral, he made himself cry upon command. My mother is still wrapped around his finger, I know she is. I can't help being mad at that. My own mother doesn't believe me! Doesn't she realize that she's in terrible, grave danger?!

My doorknob wiggles and I quickly scramble back, putting up my fists, ready to fight.

"Twyla?"

It's my mother. I clutch my chest, heart beating. "Yeah Mom?" I ask.

"Move the chair, Twyla."

Immediately an alarm goes off in my head. "NO!" I shout. "I'M NOT MOVING IT!" What if it's him impersonating her voice?! What if she's been sent to get me so that he can ambush me when I'm least expecting it.

"It's hard to talk to you through this door," she says.

I get up, moving the chair very cautiously and opening the door just a little bit, peeking out to make sure that he's not there.

"Twyla, honey, please. This is absurd." I shake my head, opening the door only enough to pull my mother in before quickly slamming it back shut and jamming the chair back against the knob. My heart pounds as I look around again, making sure he hadn't slipped in behind her somehow. I wouldn't put it below him.

"You're safe here, Mom," I say breathlessly, relieved that he isn't here. We're safe, we're safe here.

"Honey, I'm safe out there too."

"NO!" I shout. "How can you not see Mom!? He's a murderer!"

My mother crosses her arms and gives me a cold glare, like I'm in trouble. Sure, _I'm_ in trouble. I'm trying to protect her, and _I'm_ in the wrong. Of course.

"Twyla, this has gone on long enough! Maddox is your step-father and you will show him the respect he deserves!"

"I WILL NEVER RESPECT HIM!" I shout back, clenching my fists tightly. "HE KILLED MY SISTER!"

"Twyla!" she shouts, but my voice drowns her out. Good.

"HE KILLED YOUR DAUGHTER!" I shout. How can she not _understand_ this!? Is she so deep in love that she can't see that it was him!?

"TWYLA DIANA FRISK YOU WILL STOP THIS RIGHT NOW!" my mother roars, and I stop yelling. I love my mother and I don't want to make her mad. More of those stupid tears form in my eyes and I quickly reach up and wipe them angrily. He will not know that I'm dying inside. He'd be happy to know that. I don't want him to be happy. "It's been three months, Twyla. It was a suicide."

My vision goes totally red. How the hell could she say that about her own daughter?! "NO!" I say. "IT WAS MOST CERTAINLY NOT A SUICIDE!"

"Twyla, honey, calm down," my mother says.

"I KNOW MY SISTER!" I scream, hoping everyone in the whole District hears it. "I KNOW MY SISTER AND IT WASN'T A GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING _SUICIDE_!"

"It's time to put it behind you, Twyla. It's time to move on."

"NO!" I scream, stomping my feet. "I WILL NOT MOVE ON!" How can she not _see_!? He's a filthy murderer and now she's always taking his side! I'm her daughter, Annie was her _daughter_!

"You're being delusional! Your step-father is a kind, gentle man and you are extremely out of line!"

"HE IS NOT!" I shout at her, squeezing my eyes shut. He is not a kind gentle man! He is a murderer! He is a murderer, he killed my sister, and my mother refuses to see that!

"Twyla, you are doing nothing but hurt this innocent man," my mother says. "He _loves_ you, he loves you like you were his own, and he loved Annie the same way!"

"HE DOESN'T LOVE ANY OF US!" I shout back at her, at the top of my lungs. How the hell can she not see?!

"He is going through enough pain mourning the death of a girl that was like his daughter. It only hurts more when you throw these false accusations around!"

"They're NOT false accusations!" I shout.

"It was a suicide, Twyla."

"NO! IT WAS NOT!" I shout. "That's what they say because they're too lazy to actually care about us enough to investigate!"

My mother takes a deep breath, a sad look in her eyes. "Honey, I understand that this is extremely hard for you to go through. Especially because… Of what happened beforehand. But sweetheart, you can't just try to throw the blame to someone else to cope with feeling like it's your fault."

I turn away from her. The tears come back and silently roll down my cheeks. I don't let him hear me cry.

"I never said this isn't my fault," I say, voice quivering. "I shouldn't have left her alone. I…" I clench my teeth tightly so that he doesn't hear me sob, because I'm sure he's listening through the door. "… _know_ that. That doesn't mean that he didn't kill her."

"Twyla. Maddox did _not_ kill your sister. He would _never_."

"That's what he w-ants you to believe," I say, cursing at how my voice wobbles, betraying the tears.

"No, honey, that's the truth. He tried to _revive_ her when he found her."

"That's what he _wants_ you to believe!" I say, my stupid voice squeaking on wants.

She opens her arms, and I hug her tightly. She's really all I have left. I hug her tightly, and she hugs back. We stay like that for a while.

"Sweetheart, I think it's time for you start healing. Anisette wouldn't have wanted you to waste your life away on a lost cause like this."

I scowl and turn away from her again. "No," I say. "I'm getting justice for my sister. You're not _safe_ , Mom! None of us are safe! He's going to come after us, Mom, he's going to kill us!" Tears pour out of my eyes. I just want to keep us all safe, I just want to keep anyone else from dying. "Please, Mom, you have to realize…"

"He's _not_ dangerous," she says. "He loves you very much and I'd appreciate it if you gave him a chance, dear. Then you'll realize that he's a good man. Maybe then we'll feel like a family."

"That man is not my family, and he never will be."

She sighs. "You're going to have to realize it someday, Sweetheart."

"NO!" I yell again, and my mother winces. She just hugs me again, and I hug back.

"No matter what happened to her, it wasn't your fault, Twyla," she says quietly.

I sniffle again and bite my cheek to keep from sobbing out loud, when he can hear.

"That's easy for you to say," I mutter, bitterly. "You weren't the one that left her."

My mother has a sad look in her eyes. "At least come down for dinner. Will you come for dinner? I made some oatmeal and stew."

I clench my fists, but I want to please (and protect) my mother. "Yes. I'll come for dinner."

My mother gives me a small smile. "Good girl." She crawls over and under the ropes, stepping on a couple that snap, before getting to the door and moving the chair. She goes to the kitchen and I follow.

He's sitting at the table when we get there.

"There are my favorite girls!" he says, his voice laced with a coldness as he smiles at us both. He has that cold, evil look in his eyes, I can see it! Can't she?! How can't she, it's so obvious!?

"I made oatmeal," my mother says, smiling and just… _kissing_ that man! The man who killed my _sister_! How does she not realize he's absolutely terrible and cold as ice?!

"Oo, yay!" Bard says cheerfully. "Thanks… Mom. That's alright, isn't it?"

My mother smiles. "Of course it is, sweetheart." She kisses the top of his head and I ball my hand into a fist. He's fifteen, one year younger than Annie would be if his father hadn't _murdered_ her! Bard always gives me these disgusting looks of pity, every word he says is fake, thought through, scripted, for fear of hurting my feelings by pointing out the reality of things. I hate cowards that just run away from talking about the tough things. They disgust me.

"Yumma!" adds little two-year-old Brynn, a mix of my mother's genes and… _his_. But, to her credit, she's the only goddamn person that isn't treating me differently after this whole mess. Not that she knows any better.

"You can call me Dad if you want, Twyla," Maddox says, giving me a sickeningly sinister smile.

"No," I say, looking away from him. "I don't want to."

"Twyla," my mother says, giving me a look, but I don't care. I'm not going to!

"I said _no!_ " I say. I'm starting to get really frustrated with her. She always takes his side! She doesn't realize who he is! She doesn't know! I'm her goddamn _daughter!_

"Twy-"

"It's alright," Maddox whispers quietly. "Don't pressure her. Please. Let her take her time."

"Don't defend me!" I snap. I hate how he's so fake all the time! He doesn't give a damn about me! I hate his lying, fake ass! I hate it, I hate how he's trying to make me like him so that he can murder me just like he murdered Annie!

My mother just sighs and pours out bowls for everyone. "I'm sorry it's lukewarm," she says, putting bowls in front of everyone.

"Wait, that's been sitting out?" I ask.

"Just eat the oatmeal, Twyla," my mother says.

It's been sitting out. And he was in the kitchen when we came down, which means that there was a period of time in which he was alone with the oatmeal, without anybody there to watch him.

Bard puts a big spoonful in his mouth and gives a thumbs-up. "It's really good!" he says after swallowing.

"Delicious as always," Maddox says, his voice hissing like a snake.

"Thank you both, dears."

"Yumma!" chimes Brynn, sloppily eating with a spoon.

"Would you like some Twyla?" my mother asks. "Everyone else ate the very same oatmeal from the very same pot and we are all just fine."

"Fine I'll take some," I say, crossing my arms. My mother spoons it out and I eat slowly. It's still totally possible that he put some poison in it that would only affect me, he probably masterminded some plan… I put the tiniest bite in my mouth and when I decide it's safe, I eat the rest. My Mom puts some stew in front of us and I repeat the same process: letting each of them eat first.

My Mom and Maddox usually rotate who makes dinner, but I'm glad she made it today. I was starving, even with the snack from Frax earlier.

"Guess what I found today?" Maddox asks, and I quickly push out my chair, ready to use it to defend myself when he pulls out a gun to shoot my mother and me.

"Duck Mom," I whisper to her, pleading for her to take this seriously. Of course, she doesn't.

"Twyla," she scolds.

"I found a little board game," he said, pulling an old box out of his work bag. The same bag with his axe, which he could use to attack at any second. "How about we have a family game night?"

"Oo, yeah!" Bard says happily.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," my mother says.

"No," I say, standing up.

"Please Twyla?" Bard asks, looking sad and pathetic. "I'd love to get to know you better."

"I said, NO!"

"Twyla!" my mother snaps, "What has gotten into you!?"

"I'm not playing a board game with the man who killed my sister!"

Maddox gets a sad look on his face, but I know it's all just an act! It's an _act!_

"He did not kill _anyone_!" my mother shouts.

"Honey, please, she's just grieving-" Maddox starts, but I don't let him finish. I don't need him to defend me.

"You always take his side!" I shout. "I'm your _daughter_! She was your _daughter_!"

"This is absurd-"

"You never used to be like this!" I continue. "I don't know what changed, but you're in danger!"

"You changed!" my mother shouts at me, which causes every muscle in my body to tense. "Now you can either come play a game with the rest of your family, or you can go straight to your room to bed, lights out, right now."

I push past her. "I'm going to bed," I say coldly, going up to my room and slamming the door, jamming it with my chair, and dropping the book back behind the dresser where no one would ever find it. I fix the strings, grumbling to myself as I change into my PJs and climb into bed, just like she said.

I'm going to prove that he killed my sister.

Then, she'll _have_ to choose.

Me or him.

* * *

 **Reaping Day**

-Turtle D'Angelo, 13, District 5-

 _8:00 A.M._

I wake up in Python's bed, and when my eyes open, he's already up and moving. He smiles when he sees me awake.

"Mornin'," he says.

"Hey," I yawn, rubbing at my eyes.

"You sleep okay?"

I smile sadly. "I did. Thank you."

"Sure thing. Now, get up and get dressed, I have a surprise for you and then I need your help with something."

"Alright!" I say cheerfully, heading to my room. I change from my PJs to the black skirt I wore last night with a white shirt with black horizontal stripes before combing my short, dark hair and stepping into a pair of black leather flats.

When I put my comb back on the dresser, I almost knock over my prized possession. I giggle as the rubber penis flops around, still more than amused at it.

This whole dildo thing started when I found one in Python's dresser. When I asked him what it was, he explained everything about it in detail, just as Python always does when I'm curious about things. I wanted to examine it better but Python told me not to do that with the one from his dresser. So, he said he'd buy a clean one for me to examine myself. I didn't want him to spend his money on something I wouldn't use (I'm thirteen, I don't want to use those things! I just want to know what they are!) so we agreed that I could have it until I was satisfied with it, then he'd take it, because he'd actually use it.

Now I keep it around because it's funny to me how it flops and it's just so odd. When I asked Python if it was weird for me to have it, like the bullies in school said it was, he just smiled and said, "Turtle, as your older brother I would much rather you answer your questions with that rubber penis than with some pedo's real one." And, as usual, he's right. Now the dark pink rubber penis rests floppily on my dresser. I'll give it up someday, but I'm not ready to quiet yet. Just for sentimentality's sake.

When I come out to the kitchen, Python is pacing around, mumbling quietly to himself. I sit at the table, waiting patiently for the voices to release him to have breakfast. Sometimes they don't for a long time, sometimes they require him to draw blood or burn his hand before he can be released, but they must be feeling really nice today because soon he's bringing me a plate of bread and jam and a couple of pieces of bacon for us to share.

"How're you feeling today?" he asks.

"Better," I say. "But… Still nervous."

"Don't worry, I got through all my reapings just fine, right?" I nod as I swallow a piece of bread. "So do a lot of people. After all, all those fourteen-year-olds in front of you survived their thirteen-year-old reaping, right?"

"There are a lot of them," I say, closing my eyes as the delicious taste of bacon takes me away to a better place. A place with nothing but bacon. Unlimited fountains spewing out beautiful pieces of bacon. The best part was this batch wasn't even burnt to a crisp.

"That's right. And next year, you'll be one of them."

I smile. "You're right. Thanks Python."

"Sure thing, kiddo. Now, are you ready for a surprise?"

"Oh, I love surprises!" I say happily, getting excited. I just hope that the surprise isn't that we're moving again… I don't want him to leave this great life just for me!

"Close your eyes," he says.

"Okay!" I squeeze my eyes shut, resisting every urge I have to peek. I can't help it, trying to open one eye and try to see.

"No peeking!" he says, and I just huff. I keep my eyes closed until I feel something plop on my head.

"Open them!" I do, and when I take the thing off my head I realize that it's a cute little bell-shaped black hat with a bow on it.

"Well!? Do you like it?"

"Oh Python, I love it! It's such a cool hat!"

"Nobody would dare reap someone with such an adorable hat," Python says, and I launch across the room to hug him tightly.

"Thank you Python," I say happily. "It's wonderful."

"Anything for you," he says, smiling, and I believe that he really would do anything for me.

"Now, you said there was something you needed my help with?" I ask.

"That's right! But you have to come with me."

"Alright!" I chirp, as he takes my hand and together we leave our tiny little house. The sun is shining and it's a beautiful summer day as he keeps leading me along. Soon, the gates to the Victor's Village come into view, and I can't help but smile.

"Why are we here?" I ask.

"Well, Gaylen said last night that his sister Sadie is gonna be _suuuuuper_ crabby today because she's mentoring and so are Osten and Piccozzi."

"Okay?"

"So, we're gonna intercept her, cheer her up, and then she'll definitely let me be with Gaylen!"

I beam up at him. "That's a great idea!" I say enthusiastically.

We notice a figure walking towards the gates, so Python drags me to a bush and the two of us hide there together. We watch Alpha Douthit, the Forty-Ninth Victor, leave the Victor's Village. He gives us a weird look, but just keeps walking. We wait there forever, until the gates open and Sadie walks out of the Victor's Village. She still limps a bit on her prosthetic, but other than that she looks fabulous as always.

Python jumps out of the bush and Sadie lets out a scream and puts up her fists.

"Sorry 'bout that!" Python says, and I crawl out of the bush, trying not to rip my clothes and hat on the prickly branches. "Hi Sadie!"

She gives him a glare. "Hi Scumbag."

"It's… So nice to see you," Python says, clenching his fist.

"What do you want?" she asks, as she starts walking.

"Gaylen said you were gonna be a grade A bitch before the reaping so I decided to come cheer you up and prove that I am a good guy!"

"Python's a great guy!" I say happily. He really is.

Sadie looks down at me. "And you are?"

"Turtle," I say, "His sister!"

"Oh, yes. I've… heard about you."

"So, we're going to cheer you up!" Python says happily.

"Tell you what, if you make me crack a smile you can just… _Marry_ Gaylen, for all I care."

"Really!?" Python asks, as he and I exchange an excited look.

"Sure," Sadie says.

"Alright, I'll use my best joke then!" Python says. "How do you fit fifty babies in a blender?"

I start giggling because I know the answer. This one is so funny, Sadie has to laugh!

"How?" Sadie asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Put them in a blender first!" Python says, and both of us burst out laughing.

"That's a good one!" I say, uncontrollably giggling at the image of fitting fifty babies in a bucket by blending them all.

Sadie shakes her head, not impressed.

"How about… Oh, what's red and sticky and claws at the door before exploding?"

"What?"

"A fetus in a microwave!" Both of us continue giggling, but Sadie doesn't crack. Man, she's a toughie.

"We should get to the reaping," she says, and Python deflates. We all walk there together, Python and I dejected. The two funniest jokes ever didn't even get her to crack a smile. How would this ever happen now? Soon, Gaylen falls into step with us, he and Python talking happily. Maybe love will somehow find a way. Somehow.

We get to the Square, which is already filling with people. Sadie leaves wordlessly to get to the stage, just as crabby as she was when we'd met her, if not more.

We get to the line of the kids waiting and I'm about to start the trek to the back when I see… _him_.

"Ready for this?" Gaylen asks, but I stop walking.

"Python," I say quietly.

"Huh?"

"Look," I say, pointing.

My brother squints, running a hand through his hair. "Huh?"

"Look at that boy," I whisper.

"Which one?"

I point. "He's the cutest boy I've ever seen," I whisper. My heart pounds in my chest. He has clear, pale skin, messy, light brown hair, and blue eyes. Sure, he's got some dirt on his face and his clothes are old, but… Oh my _God_.

Python grins. "You should go talk to him."

"But he's halfway through the line! How am I supposed to get there without just cutting?"

Python shrugs. "Easy, just do what I do. Push your way through the crowd and shout someone's name. They'll all step aside, thinking that you're going to meet up with someone. Just keep going until you reach him and stop."

"But I don't know his name."

"That doesn't matter. Just pretend your friend isn't anywhere to be found or something. I'm pretty sure these scared kids won't complain about putting off their registration."

"You're right!" I say. "Thanks Python." I hug him and Gaylen both before I star through the line. I put my hand up, waving it as I walk through the people and shout, "Larry! Larry! I was calling you Larry! Larry! LARRY!" Sure enough, just like Python said, people move out of the way for me. "Larry! I was calling you!"

"Me?" says a voice as I cut through the crowd. Not close enough to _him_.

"Other Larry!" I say, continuing through the crowd shouting Larry until I'm literally _right_ behind _him_. Then I just stop. My heart pounds as I watch him. He's talking to a girl that looks a lot like him, same pale skin, light brown hair, blue eyes. I hope they're related…

Everyone's attention is on me, that girl who's just shouting Larry, but I just look around and shrug, proclaiming that I give up and just staying there. Everyone goes back to their own business and I start to wonder if this was a good idea when a gentle voice brings me out of my thoughts.

"Did you find your friend?" Oh my God it's _him_! He's talking to me! My heart pounds and I try my best to come up with a response. Something witty or cute to say, something…

"N-No, I just gave up."

"Oh, that's a bummer," he says, his blue eyes twinkling oh my GOD.

"I guess."

"If you want you can enter our conversation while we wait!" he says, sounding perfectly cheerful.

"O-Okay," I stammer out, smiling as confidently as I can.

"What's your name?" he asks. "I'm Ezreal, I'm fourteen, and this is my best friend May, she's thirteen." _Ezreal_. I almost put my hand over my heart and do a dreamy sigh, but I restrain myself.

"Hi there!" says May, smiling.

"Turtle," I say quietly. "I'm thirteen too."

"Oh, that's such a cool name!" he says.

"Thanks," I say, smiling a bit. My mouth starts to move before I can stop it, though, and soon I'm looking at him in the gorgeous blue eyes and saying, "It's after a cursor that can draw penises."

May turns around to cough and Ezreal looks confused, but not weirded out.

"It can draw other things!" I say quickly. "Like, geometric patterns and stuff! I… Don't know why I just said that." I want to die oh my God what is even happening right now?

"Oh!" Ezreal laughs a bit. "Cool."

 _Oh my God why did I just say that?!_ I'm just about ready to die from sheer embarrassment now, thanks.

"Yeah," I say, laughing nervously and scratching behind my neck awkwardly.

"You're all cut up on your arms," he says, sounding concerned. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, yeah, before the reaping my brother and I were hiding in a bush outside the Victor's Village," I say, before realizing how weird that sounded. "It's not weird, I promise!" Oh God I'm being such an annoying nuisance this was a terrible idea maybe I should just keep going searching for Larry until I'm at the front of the line _help me_ oh my God.

"I believe you," he says, laughing good-naturedly. "That would also explain why you have a leaf on your shoulder." He reaches over to pick it off, and I feel his hand brush my shoulder. Even when he drops the leaf on the ground, his touch stays right there on my shoulder.

"Oh, right," I say, giggling and trying not to blush like a tomato. "Thanks." I smile at him and he smiles back.

"I like your hat," he says, and I can't control the blush that I know is painfully evident on my cheeks, probably my entire face by this point.

"Thank you!" I say, trying not to giggle too much like an idiot.

His face creases with concern again. "You're flushed. Are you feeling alright? Do you need some water?"

"Oh, no thank you!" I say quickly. "I'm alright, really," I say quickly, laughing nervously. I notice May bump his shoulder and give him a look, but he still looks oblivious. Well, she tried. I'm not sure if I should be embarrassed that she noticed so quickly or thankful that she's trying to help a sister out.

"So Turtle, where are you from?" he asks.

"Oh, I live just about twenty minutes from here right now, actually, but probably not for long. My brother and I are constantly moving around to different schools, travelling so that I can get a diverse education."

"Really!? Wow, that's so neat!" he says, his blue eyes wide with wonder. "That must be so wonderful!"

I smile. "Yeah, it's pretty fun. How about you?"

"Just about forty minutes walking from here. Luckily we got seats on one of the earliest jeeps to get us here.

"Oh, wow! Neat!" I say.

"Next!" the lady at the registration booth says.

"Oh man, I guess that's me…" Ezreal says, giving me a sheepish smile.

"I'll go," May says, bumping Ezreal hard on the shoulder.

"Auf, hey!" he says, still looking confused. Oh my God what is even happening right now. May goes to a table to get checked in.

"Well, it was awfully nice talking to you, Turtle. Maybe you me and May can hang out for a while after the reaping!"

I can't help but smile ear-to-ear at that. This boy is so damn cute and he already seems so caring! I'd love to spend more time with him. "That sounds wonderful," I say, smiling and tucking a piece of hair hanging out of my hat behind my ear.

"And maybe then I can meet Larry!" he says, grinning at me.

 _Larry? Who the fuck is Larry?_ Oh yeah, fuck that was the name I was yelling like an idiot earlier. "Oh… Yeah, maybe you can!" I say, laughing awkwardly.

"Next!" the woman at the desk calls.

Ezreal turns around. "Yeah, that's me. But anyways, it was nice meeting you, Turtle. Hopefully we'll see each other after the reaping." He puts a hand on my shoulder awkwardly before quickly pulling it back and hurrying to the table to be registered. Once I'm sure he's not looking I put my hand where his warm one had just been, letting out a dreamy sigh. Definitely the best reaping day ever.

"Next!" the lady at the table calls, and I start to feel anxious again. Check-in last year had been a disaster for some reason. I don't know why they were so snippy with me and insisting that I tell them my real name. I _was_ telling them my real name. Hopefully this year they had it straightened out.

"Name?"

"Turtle D'Angelo. Thirteen."

They prick my finger and register the blood on a database. My heart pounds nervously in my chest. I don't want another scene like last year. Luckily, the system beeps and the lady says. "Go ahead."

I stand in my section, recognizing some of the faces from schools I'd previously attended. I wonder if any of them remember me at all.

"Hey!" May says, smiling at me. "Do you have anyone to stand with?"

"Oh, um, no, not really," I say awkwardly. I don't want her to think I'm a friendless freak… She just smiles and says, "Yeah, me neither. Let's stand together then!"

"Oh, alright!" I say happily. I know that I shouldn't get too close, that May and Ezreal will just be whisked away just like all my other friends have been, but I can't help wanting someone to stand with during the reaping. We talk about random things, the weather, school stuff, hobbies, things that make me smile.

Soon, too soon, the Mayor, Algernon Baines, is up on the stage, greeting the District kindly with the same glinting blue eyes as May and Ezreal. He reads from the Treaty of Treason and soon he's announcing the escort. "For her first year in our District, please welcome Sidonia Zandari!"

The woman stepped out on stage, a gentle look on her face considering her hair was black streaked with blue and styled very dramatically. "Welcome, District Five. It's an honor to be here with you for the first time. Without further ado, the reapings for the Sixty-First Games." She gave a calm nod and stepped to the male's bowl first. She reached in and picked a name.

"Would… Ezreal Valois please come up to the stage?"

May and I both gasp. I didn't know his last name, but how many Ezreals are there in this District? Sure enough, the beautiful boy steps out of the fourteen section, shock on his face. Soon, though, it's replaced by a smile as he mounts the steps to join Sidonia. May grabs onto my arm tightly, tears forming in her eyes. I feel them forming in mine, too. He's such a nice guy… this is horrible! She lets out a sob and I don't' know what to do except give her a tight hug. Sidonia presents Ezreal to the crowd, but I'm too busy hugging the sobbing May to care. She hugs me tightly, trying to keep her sobs quietly and failing. Some tears roll down my cheeks too. This is devastating.

"Next, the females." She steps over to the other bowl, but I barely pay attention as May is sobbing loudly into my shoulder. I perk up when I hear the name.

"Abigail Macbeth!"

There seems to be a collective gasp among the District.

"Abigail?" I wait for the poor girl to show herself. I wonder why the crowd reacted so strangely. Is she a twelve-year-old. "Would Abigail Macbeth please come up to the stage?"

The District is tense, May next to me sobbing quietly. Soon, I start to get confused. Usually the Peacekeepers would have dragged someone to the stage by now. "Abigail Macbeth?" The crowd starts to get restless, people yelling out, and Algernon quickly hurries to the podium.

"Abigail Macbeth is a missing child," he says. "I've been informed that the Secretaries are currently taking DNA samples from her parents to find a match in the blood of our District's females," he says. "Surely they won't find a match, if so you should just reap another girl, Sidonia."

There's a long, tense pause. Sidonia looks terrified, and Ezreal just looks plain awkward.

Soon, Peacekeepers tear into the crowd of girls. I watch with wide eyes as they come to me and pick me up. What's happening!? Why are they taking me!?

"I'm not Abigail Macbeth!" I gasp, shocked. "I'm Turtle D'Angelo! I've never even heard of Abigail Macbeth!" I sob, tears pouring out of my eyes. "I'm Turtle D'Angelo! Please! I'M NOT ABIGAIL MACBETH!" They push me up the steps, where I trip and fall, tears pouring out of my eyes. I feel nothing but confusion. What's happening!? Who's Abigail Macbeth!? What's happening?!

"It's a match," Algernon breaths, looking at me as if I'm an alien. I turn to face the District. What's happening?! I look for Python, and I don't take long to find him, yelling profanities, screaming at the top of his lungs, fighting to get past Gaylen, who is holding him back.

"I'm not Abigail Macbeth!" I sob out desperately, "Mayor Baines! I'm Turtle D'Angelo!"

"Abigail Macbeth," he says. I can't help but feel frustrated. Who is Abigail Macbeth?! Why am I being put in the Games in her place!? What is happening to me?!

"W-Well Panem, here are your District Five tributes, Ezreal Valios and Abigail Macbeth." The crowd is silent, only filled by Python screaming and May sobbing. Tears pour out of my eyes as Sidonia has us shake hands. Ezreal squeezes my hand, still dry-faced, and then takes me into a tight hug, up there on _stage_! Before I know it, we're being turned around and forced back into the Justice Building.

.

-Twyla Frisk, 17, District 7-

 _9:05 A.M._

"Why can't they _see!?_ " I ask, kicking a rock as hard as I can and watching it tumble down the dirt path in front of us. Of course everyone and their brother comes to the stupid woods on reaping day, it's the only part of this horrible District that is half decent. There are groups of people pretty much everywhere I look, which I _hate_. He could have spies. They could be anywhere, just watching, waiting to come out of nowhere and get me.

"I don't know," Harry says. Harry Openshaw is my lifeline. He was Annie's boyfriend before she died, and he's the only goddamn person in this shithole, on this earth, that wants justice for her as much as I do. He understands me. He sees Maddox for the scumbag he is.

"It wasn't a goddamn suicide!" I say, picking up a twig so I can snap it in half. "My sister was _murdered!_ "

"You're preaching to the choir," he says, and I sigh.

"Sorry. You're the only one that believes me anymore."

"I know," he says quietly. "We'll get him, though."

"God, I hope so," I say, clenching my teeth. "My mother has no idea how much danger she's in."

"No, she doesn't."

"Any new ideas or leads?"

He sighs. "No. We have less and less to go off of every day."

I clench my fists angrily. "I know."

"But that doesn't mean anything. I've seen shows about this kind of thing. They bring cases up from twenty years prior and they crack them. I've seen it."

"Shows?"

"Television shows."

"Oh, right." I sigh. Sometimes it's easy for me to forget that Harry's the son of rich parents that have special ties with the Capitol because of their logging business. I was initially pretty suspicious when he started dating Annie, and when she was murdered. I thought it could have been him. What reason did he have to date someone like her? I judged him too soon, though. Just because he's rich doesn't mean he has no heart. He loved her well, she was crazy about him, and he was absolutely devastated when she died. He blamed himself, saying that he should have been there, but he's not the one that left just because she was frustrating him. He wasn't that person.

I was.

It really wasn't his fault. If anything, it was my fault more than it was his. I never should have just left her like that. She was alone and vulnerable, in prime position to be shot. And she was pretty distraught, too.

Annie and I had fought, right before she died. We had a petty argument, and I was so frustrated with it that I left to go shopping for groceries. When I came back, she was dead, Maddox was home and he was covered in blood. There was no weapon at the scene, he must have gotten rid of it somehow, but I just know it was him.

Although I know that if I hadn't left, it would have never happened.

I was just really mad. She was asking me about my love life, why I never told her about my crushes when she always told me all of hers. I told her honestly that I've never had any crushes, I just haven't ever felt that way and honestly, the thought of a relationship is not one that I like. She insisted that I had to be lying, that there had to be someone that I had a crush on, that I was lying to her and she kept asking me to tell her the truth, but she wouldn't accept that I was telling the truth. Maybe a normal girl would have had a crush, two, three, by this point in their lives, but maybe I'm just not a normal fucking girl. Either way, it was really making me mad. My patience was running out and I just knew that if I stayed around the results would not have been pretty. So, I left. I just got up and left, I went to the market to go shopping and cool down, try to figure out what to say.

Maybe I should have lied and said that I had a crush on someone to appease her. Maybe I should have been more patient about it instead of just blowing my fuse. I can't help it, though. She didn't mean to, of course, but she was just making me feel absolutely horrible about myself. Maybe I'm just broken or something, maybe I'm actually a robot with no capacity to love or have crushes, but whatever the hell's wrong with me was really bothering me and I just couldn't take it anymore. I didn't want to lash out and make her feel bad, I just couldn't stay there any longer. I went to the market and bought a pack of cigarettes to try and calm down.

While I was on the street corner smoking, my sister was _murdered_.

If I had been more patient with her and stayed, maybe she wouldn't have died. Maybe Maddox wouldn't have gotten a chance to kill her just because he couldn't stand that one of his new daughters had Down's Syndrome. Maybe if I hadn't been so rash things would be different. There are so many ways things could have been done differently, ways I could have protected her from that stupid parasite living in my goddamn house!

"Twyla?"

I look up from my feet, realizing that we'd moved so deep into the woods that we had reached the stream.

"What?"

"Nothing, you just seemed zoned out back there."

"Oh. I was."

There are some groups of people are here, enjoying the beautiful stream. There are screaming children that splash in the water together. A couple and a young child looking for tadpoles. A group of teens talking and laying on the grass. Some other teens flying an old, faded kite. Harry and I take a seat by the water, as far away from the others as possible. He knows that I hate interacting with others, so he tries to help me avoid it. He's been like my rock in these hard times. Even when my mother wasn't taking my side, Harry was.

"It's pretty easy to do that," he says, sighing quietly. "Especially today."

"Today." I blink. "Oh, yeah. The reaping."

"Are you nervous?"

"Isn't everyone?"

He sighs quietly. "Yeah, true."

"At least I don't have to worry about Annie's name being called," I say bitterly.

He gives me a sad look. "I miss her so much," he says quietly.

"I know. I miss her too. And I miss my father."

"Do you remember your father?" he asks quietly. "Annie told me she didn't."

I stare at the water. "Vaguely. But I remember that we were happy with him. I remember that with him, things were normal. With him, we were safe. He loved us. He _protected_ us. And I didn't mourn him when he died because I was just a kid when it happened. But now I miss him. If he were still around, we'd be happy and safe."

"I'm so sorry Twyla," Harry whispers, and when I look over he's got that stupid look in his eyes. That look of pity, that look of walking on eggshells to keep from upsetting me because he thinks I'm some weak little girl that will cry at any mention of my sister and father and everything else that I've lost. I hate people like that, I hate them. Just be square with me, don't be a goddamn coward. Just because you don't mention it doesn't mean it never fucking happened.

"Stop," I say, turning away from him.

"Sorry," he says quietly. "I know you hate that."

"Yeah. I do."

"I miss Annie. She's the first thing that I lost that really meant something."

I turn back so that he can see my face. "Yeah. I understand the feeling."

"But don't you worry. We're going to prove that it was him. We're going to get justice for her, you hear me? My parents are very important people, if we can just find that one piece of definitive evidence we can get him locked up for sure!"

I smile a little bit at that thought. "Yeah. Someday. I will never give up on her."

He smiles. "Good. Because I won't give up on her either."

We sit there in silence, watching the water flow. My mind wanders to memories, memories of happier times, better times. Times when Annie would be with us, that she'd take her shoes and socks off and put her feet in the water, not minding that they'd get dirty. She would talk, on and on, about whatever she felt like talking about. Harry and I would just listen and be glad that she was there with us. She was the only person whose hand I ever held. Well, maybe my parents, when I was little, but I can't really remember those days. Annie's is the only one I'd want to hold anymore, and she's gone. I lost my sister, and my father, and my house is full of strangers. I'd go as far as to say I lost my mother, considering she is constantly mad at me and never takes me seriously. Doesn't she see that I'm telling her this!? Doesn't she see how scared I am for her!? And she acts like I'm the one that's in the wrong. She doesn't understand. She'll never understand. I just want her to understand, stop treating me like a child.

Soon, the groups start to leave, going back to the main Square to get ready for the reaping, which was set to start at eleven o'clock, just as always. It took quite a white to trek back through the woods and try to catch a jeep or a bus to keep from having to walk all the way to the Square.

"We should get going," Harry says quietly, standing up. I had no idea it was possible for him to be that quiet. He was always just so… Loud, when I knew him. That was before losing Annie, though. Now he's pretty quiet and withdrawn.

"Yeah," I mutter, standing up and not bothering to dust myself off. Who cares if my skirt has dirt on it? Not me. Together, wordlessly, but holding that mutual grief between us, we head to the Town Square. We stand in line together, not talking but taking plenty of time to listen to the many different conversations around us, some of them totally mundane, some just plain weird.

"I can't believe he gave us summer reading!" …"Then, you wouldn't believe what happened to the poor kid." … "…Get off that cake!" …"I dropped my pencil!" …"I'm telling you he's a scumbag."

"He is most certainly not a scumbag!"

"You don't know that," the other voice says.

"Yes I do. He's my friend and he's really nice!"

"Yeah, because _that's_ what you scream in bed."

"You've never even had sex, how are you supposed to know anything about it?"

"I know a scumbag when I see one, Oden, and he's most definitely a scumbag!"

"He is not!" comes the other voice. Harry and I exchange a glance, and I'm pretty sure he chose to tune into the same conversation that I did.

Harry turns around. Of course he would. He's an extrovert that would butt in on every single conversation he possibly could.

"I'm so sorry, we couldn't help but overhear your conversation."

"We?" one of them asks, and I reluctantly turn around, but don't talk. I hate talking to people, especially strangers. Harry knows that. I glare at him but he doesn't even seem to notice.

"I'm Harry," he says, "Harry Openshaw."

"Nice to meet you!" the defender chirps. "I'm Oden, this is my twin Oren. Nice to meet you!"

"Why were you listening to our conversation?" the other, Oren, asks defensively.

"You weren't really having it quietly."

Oden laughs a bit. "Yeah, sometimes we aren't so good at the whole quiet thing."

"Who are you?" Oren asks, giving a pointed glance at me. "You never introduced yourself."

 _Yeah, I didn't, and I don't want to_ , I think, but eventually I cross my arms and mutter, "Twyla Frisk."

"Nice to meet you Twyla!" Oden says, smiling, but I don't make eye contact with him. He holds out his hand for me to shake, but I pretend I don't see it.

"So, who are we talkin' about?" Harry asks. He really has no goddamn shame.

"My best friend," Oden sighs.

"Walden Whitmore," Oren says. "That's his name. And he's an asshole that is mistreating my brother."

"He is not mistreating me. We're friends-with-benefits, that's it."

"That's not just it!" Oren insists. "I know a scumbag, and Walden checks all the boxes! All the red flags are waving!"

"Don't be absurd, Oren," Oden says.

"They're probably just having a little fun," Harry says. "Sex isn't inherently bad you know?"

Oren makes a noise that sounds like a mix between a hiss and a growl, a noise that I can personally relate to honestly.

"Maybe not, but sex with that guy is."

"It is not!"

"You're just too soft to see it," Oren says, shaking his head. I've been there before, that's for sure. I get how he feels.

Without even thinking about it, I stick my hand out to the twin on the left. He looks up at me, his eyes calculating.

"I think you're right," I say.

"Of course I'm right," he says simply, as he reaches out to give my hand a firm squeeze.

"I think we can very well understand each other," I say, but I'm sure he has no idea what I mean because he knows nothing about me.

"Frisk. Anisette Frisk?" he says, still holding onto my hand and staring intensely at me.

"My sister," I say. "How do you know her?"

"I don't. I remember seeing her name on the news a couple months ago."

"What?" Is this one of Maddox's spies?!

"Oren has an amazing memory!" Oden says. "He's, like, a genius."

"A genius, eh?" Harry asks, smirking. "That's pretty cool!"

"I guess," he says blankly. Maybe this guy'll beat out Frax for second least horrible person I know.

"If he's a genius, you should believe him when he tells you this guy is a jerk," I say, the most I've ever spoken to someone I've just met since Annie died.

" _Thank_ you," he says, pointedly towards his brother.

"Well he's not a genius about relationships and certainly not about judging people!" Oden protests. "He doesn't know anything about Walden."

"I don't need to."

Oden just shakes his head. "Let's change the subject," he says. I feel Oren release his grip on my hand and drop it back to my side.

"That sounds like a great idea!" Harry says. "How about we talk about hockey!?"

"What?" Oren asks.

"You just need a couple of big-ass sticks and something, anything that slides or rolls." Harry launches into an explanation about the sport. He makes it out like any poor simpleton could play, but they have to have an idea that he's part of the upper class from how he dresses and carries himself with that tall, perfect-posture rich boy stature. Thankfully, we're soon to the front of the line.

"Well, I guess we're going to have to part now," Oden says.

"Unless I'll meet you guys in the seventeens?" Harry asks, bouncing his eyebrows.

"Oh, yes! We're seventeen too!"

"Great!" Harry chirps.

" _God_ ," Oren breathes, looking annoyed.

"You'll live," I say, almost teasingly.

"If I don't, put the words _I Told You So_ on my gravestone," he says flatly, which makes me laugh a bit. I wish this guy lived near me. Surely with his intelligence he'd know exactly what to do to prove that Maddox is the murderer that killed my baby sister.

Harry and I separate to check in, and go to our separate sections, where we stand and wait for the reaping to start. Sure enough, at eleven o'clock sharp, the mayor is up on the stage, reading from the Treaty and giving some open remarks. The Victors are introduced, and an open seat is left on stage for the deceased Victor of the Forty-First Games, Luther Pultzer. They don't usually leave it open, but I suppose it's for sentimentality's sake as it is the tenth anniversary of his death, ten years after his Games.

Jadea Blossom takes the stage next, her plump body clothed in its typical orange, the orange blossom clip in her violet hair as always. Her eerie gaze, the gaze of one bright orange eye and one dark brown, scales the crowd as she says, "Good morning District Seven! It is really a pleasure to be back here, with my family away from home." Nobody says anything as they play the video from the Capitol.

"Ah, yes. Now, let's see which lovely female is going to join me up here on stage." Jadea walks over to the first bowl, reaches in, and picks out a name. "Welcome… Twyla Frisk!"

I freeze at hearing my name. My mind immediately starts to race with thoughts. It… It was him! It was Maddox! Maddox snuck in after hours and changed the names in the bowl! I was so stupid, all along I thought he was going to kill me at home, but no, after he killed Annie at home that would be too obvious, people would start to suspect it was him. No, he decided to kill me in the most plausible way possible.

I feel anger coursing through my veins, but I'll be damned if I have to be carried by Peacekeepers! I start up to the stage, pushing people that don't move out of the way and making sure everyone can see that I'm not going to accept this fate sitting down.

He thinks he can kill me without anyone knowing!? He probably snuck to the Justice Building, took a THOUSAND tesserae in my name, and gave them all to the birds, nobody would know any better. He probably bribed someone to announce my name, so that he could get rid of me and nobody would expect it was him!

"YOU WILL NOT GET RID OF ME!" I shout into the crowd, across the silent District. "YOU WILL NEVER GET RID OF ME!" I flash the finger to the audience, hoping that Maddox sees it and realizes that it's all for him. I take handfuls of my skirt as Jadea chooses the other name.

"Next up, please welcome… Walden Whitmore!" she announces, keeping that smile on her face, as if we aren't both going to die in a matter of days. I'm not going to die, though. No way Jose, Maddox isn't going to get rid of me like this.

The boy takes a few seconds to come out from the eighteens section. He has a smile on his face when he comes, and I immediately hate the fake-ass poser upon seeing the smile on his face, just trying to mask the panic in his eyes as he mounts the steps.

"Wonderful, what a promising pair we have here! Tributes, please shake hands."

He holds out his hand, keeping that smile on, and I squeeze it with all my might, clenching my teeth and glaring up at him.

"District Seven, your tributes, Walden Whitmore and Twyla Frisk!"

* * *

 **Goodbyes**

-Abigail Angelina Macbeth Turtle D'Angelo, 13, District 5-

I sob into my hands. I'm so confused! Why was I reaped?! What's happening!? Was Python lying to me?!

No, he couldn't possibly lie to me. He cares about me too much to do that, doesn't he?

Python runs in and picks me up off the seat. I hug him tightly, sobbing and gasping, not caring that I sound like a baby. What is happening to me!? Why is this happening?!

"What- the- hell- is-"

Python sits me down and puts his hands on my shoulders. "Listen to me Turtle," he says quickly, very quietly, "You have to do whatever it takes to get home to me, okay? You hear me? _Whatever_ it takes. Alright? Turtle?"

"What's happening?!" I sob loudly. "Who's Abigail Macbeth?!" I sob.

"Listen Turtle, it's all going to be alright, okay? I p- I promise."

"Python what's going on?!" I shout. "I'm scared Python!"

He hugs me tightly. "I know you're scared. But I'm here, okay? I'm here and I've got you. Nothing bad is going to happen to you, you're safe with me."

I believe him. I have to believe him. He's never let me down before. He's the only constant in my crazy, ever-changing life. I'm scared, but Python is here.

Suddenly, the door bursts open, and there are two adults there that I've never seen in my life.

"Unhand her you monster!" the woman shouts. The man comes and grabs Python, pulling him off of me.

"Let me go! That's my sister!" he shouts, immediately fighting back against the man. He punches him in the face, shoves him against the wall, as the woman and a young child run over to me.

"Oh, Abigail!" she says. "Are you alright, dear?"

"Who's Abigail!?" I ask, sobbing. "I'm not Abigail! You're mistaking me for someone else! I'm Turtle! I'm Turtle D'Angelo! My parents are dead!"

"No, honey, we're not dead. We're here. We've been looking everywhere for you for thirteen years after Felix kidnapped you."

Python and the man are shouting at each other. The man shouts horrible things, horrible insults.

"You're not my parents!" I shout. "My parents are dead! Python said they are!"

"Abigail, Sweetie, I know that you must be scared, but it's all going to be okay now that we're together again. This is your little brother Baron," she said, gesturing for the young, terrified-looking boy to come over.

"He's not my brother!" I shout, sobbing.

"LET ME TO MY DAUGHTER YOU GODDAMN NUTCASE!" the man shouts, shoving past Python. "Abigail, honey-"

Python roars and punches him in the face, causing blood to run out of his mouth.

"Abigail, you have to see that Felix is crazy-"

"Who's Felix?!" I sob, my vision blurring by tears and fear. "He's Python! He's my brother! He's Python and I'm Turtle and you're strangers! I'm not Abigail!"

"Baby, I'm your mother! You have to-" she's cut off by Python kicking her in the side of the head, causing her to collapse on the ground, out cold.

"What's happening!?" I ask Python, feeling feint.

"I'll explain everything when you get home, okay?" I run over to him and launch my arms around him, hugging him tightly, sobbing and screaming loudly.

"Who are these people?!" I ask, sobbing. "Why were they calling us Abigail and Felix!? What's happening?!"

"Turtle, you're going to be fine, okay, please, do whatever you can to get home," he says, hugging me tightly. I sob and scream until my voice is tired.

"I love you," he says quietly, and I hug him tightly.

"I love you too," I sniffle.

He puts me down to approach the small boy who is staring at us with horrified wide eyes.

"Are you alright?" Python asks.

The boy just shakes his head, eyes forming with tears. I notice that he has a black eye.

"They hurt you a lot?"

The boy's scared eyes locked on the strangers, his parents, sprawled out on the ground, unconscious. Then, he nods. My heart breaks for the poor child. His parents must be absolute nutcases.

"Parents are terrible and pointless," Python says. "Right Turtle?"

I nod quickly, sniffling and trying to control my tears.

"How would you like to come live with me?"

The boy's eyes widen and he glances back down at his parents. "I-I-"

Python just laughs. "They stole all my happiness away, so I stole theirs. And I'll _gladly_ do it again. "

The Peacekeepers come in just then, and I launch myself at Python again. They grab him and the boy, Baron, and take them away, some more dragging the bodies away. My mind is buzzing with thoughts and soon I feel myself start to panic again. What is happening!? Who is Abigail and who were those people!? What did Python mean when he said that!? I trust Python, he wouldn't lie to me… I… He would never lie to me… I start to panic again, curling up into a ball and hyperventilating.

"Turtle?" I hear Gaylen's gentle voice, and look up, vision blurred by tears. I don't answer, I just keep sobbing at the top of my lungs. I have no idea what's happening! "Turtle, you need to breathe. Turtle, watch me, ready? Turtle? Watch me, okay? Can you breathe with me?" I look into his gentle brown eyes and take gasping breaths as I try to breath smoothly and deeply with him. After a couple of breaths, I feel better already.

"Th-Thanks," I sniffle, wiping my eyes and nose with my sleeve.

"Of course." He opens his arms to me and I run into them, hugging him tightly. His hug is warm and comforting, almost as much as Python's.

"You can do it," he says quietly, his voice breaking with tears. I don't answer, I just hug him tightly. I'm so thankful he came.

He lets go and I take a seat, focusing on smooth, even, deep breaths to keep from bursting out into tears again.

"Did you get a token yet?"

"Wh-" I feel around in my pockets and a small sob escapes me as I say "No!"

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a blue piece of cloth with a neat little design on it. He puts it gently in my hands.

"Wh-What is this?"

Gaylen smiles sadly, his eyes misty. "When I was a baby, my older brother Dawson went into the Games. He did us all very proud. He fought very courageously," he says quietly. "He took a blue bandana just like this one in with him as a token. It was… His signature. This one… Sadie took this one in the Games with her as her token, so it must be good luck, right?" Gaylen wipes some tears from his cheeks. "I never got the honor to know Dawson, I was just a baby when he died, but… I heard so many good stories, and I watched him. He was a good guy. And… I know I'm not much more than one of your brother's flings, but-"

"Oh Gaylen," I say quietly. "You're so much more than that. You're… You mean so much to me. You're the first person besides my brother to care about me. You mean so much to me. A-And to him. You mean the world to him."

Gaylen smiles sadly. "You both mean the world to me too. That's why I want you to take this. In honor of Dawson. You don't have to, though, you really don't. It might be dangerous and… I understand if it's… Too weird."

"How did he like to wear it?" I ask, sniffling. "If… If you don't mind me asking."

Gaylen smiles slightly tears pouring down his cheeks. "Around his neck."

I nod, reaching over and handing the bandana back to him, he looks down at it, some of his tears dripping down and hitting his arms.

"Can you please tie it around my neck?" I ask, turning it around.

Gaylen sniffles. "Of course." He wraps it around my neck and ties it snug and tight. "There you go," he says quietly, voice shaking. I turn around and he lets out a small sob, so I wrap my arms around him and hug him tightly.

"I promise I'll do everything to honor your brother," I say quietly. "After all you've done for mine… It's the least I can do."

"Thank you," he says quietly. "This means everything to me, and it'll mean everything to Sadie too. And," he sniffles. "Who knows? You might make friends with the Eleven tributes or the Three tributes because of it."

I hug him tightly. "Please take care of my brother while I'm gone," I say quietly.

"I will. I promise."

"Thank you Uncle Gaylen," I say quietly. I bite my lip before adding, quietly, "I love you."

"Time's up!" the Peacekeeper calls, and I slowly let him go.

"By the way," I say, sniffling to myself. "Just in case I don't make it back alive, I'll tell you in advance that you have my permission to marry Python."

He laughs a little bit, more tears bubbling in his eyes. "Thanks," he says quietly. "I love you too." The Peacekeepers escort him away.

Ezreal's face is still dry when I approach him and Sidonia. Sidonia still looks shaken-up from the reaping as she escorts us to the train. I feel warmth envelope my hand, and when I look up, Ezreal is smiling at me. Oh my _God_.

"If this is our last week, let's make it fun," he says, smiling at me. Through the confusion and pain and sadness, I feel a touch of happiness. He's right. I smile back at him through misty eyes.

"Alright," I say, as we step up on the train together.

.

-Twyla Frisk, 17, District 7-

 _11:15 A.M._

As soon as I get into the Justice Building I grab one of the cushions from the couch and swing it at a picture that was hanging on the wall, satisfied at the noise of glass cracking. The anger overflows out of me, quickly coursing around my veins and escaping through my screaming throat and the violent swinging of my arms.

My mother rushes in, tears pouring out of her eyes. She hugs me tightly, and I hug back. She's all I need. As long as she's here, everything's going to be okay, I just know it.

"Oh Twyla," she says.

"Mom," I say, not even sure where to start. When she lets me go, I see him standing in the doorway, and immediately that anger comes back. "YOU!" I shout at him, tears filling my eyes that I try to hold back. "YOU DID THIS!"

Maddox has that fake sad look on his face. "Twyla, I- I have no idea what-"

"YOU KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!" I shout. "YOU WANNA KILL ME SO BAD DON'T YOU!?"

"Twyla, you're about to go to the Hunger Games, please-" my mother says quietly, but once again she's blinded by her devotion to him.

"BECAUSE OF HIM!" I shout.

"Twyla, I just want you to be safe and happy," Maddox says, but I don't believe his slithering voice, his horrible lies, I don't believe them for one second!

"THEN JUST LEAVE!" I shout at him. "LEAVE AND LEAVE MY MOTHER ALONE!"

"Twyla, he is your step-father."

"HE KILLED MY SISTER!"

"He didn't-"

"Alisha, please," he says quietly. "I don't want your last conversation to be an argument."

"SEE!? HE IS POSITIVE I'M GOING TO DIE!"

"N-No, I didn't meant that-"

"Showing your true colors at last!" I say.

"That's not how he meant it, Twyla. I understand what he meant, and I think he's right. I don't want to argue with you right now."

"Then he needs to leave," I say, glaring across the room at him.

"I will." He frowns at me, looking all sad and fake. "Fight hard, okay? We need you back home."

"LIAR! YOU WANT ME DEAD!" I shout after him as he leaves quickly.

My mother doesn't speak, she just hugs me tightly and I hug back.

"He did this," I say quietly, "Please Mom, you have to leave him and protect yourself, please." She looks at me and shakes her head. I don't try to stop my tears. I don't want to die and I don't want to leave my Mom alone in danger. "Please," I say, voice quivering. "He's a bad, bad man and he killed Annie… Please Mom. Please Mom, you have to leave, he's a scary, scary, bad man."

"Twyla, honey…" she bit her lip, but just went back to hugging me. For once, she isn't just going to write me off and take his side. If it took me going into the Games for that to happen, at least she'll be safe.

"I love you," I say quietly. "Please be safe."

"I love you too," she says quietly.

The door opens, and Brynn toddles in, looking at me, confused.

"Twy Twy?" the girl says.

"Yeah, that's me. Yeah, she called my name," I say quietly, kneeling down to her height. I've never been good with kids, but I try to be patient.

"Hm?"

"I'm going to go away but I'm definitely going to come back."

"Oka."

"Be good while I'm gone, okay?"

"Oka."

I hug her briefly and kiss the top her head. "Good. I love you."

"Love ya," she says.

My mother's eyes are misty, so I give her one last hug before she has to go. Bard drops in next, but doesn't stay very long. He's crying, like I expected him to, that look of pity in his eyes but also a look of sadness and grief that I recognize. I surprise even myself by opening my arms to him, and he's quick to hug me tightly, still crying quietly. But, when he says "I love you," I don't repeat it.

Harry comes in next, and opens his arms, but I don't feel much like hugging him so I shake my head.

"How're you feeling?"

"Mad mostly," I say.

"Well, I thought I should visit so there were no more secrets between us."

"Secrets?" I ask, confused.

"Yeah. Before you're shipped off to die, I figured that I should tell you that I have a lead on what happened to Annie."

"A lead!? And you're waiting till now to tell me!?" I ask, angry at him for hiding it from me for so long. We could have actually done something! And now…

"Yeah. I figured I'd come and put your wandering mind to rest. It's only fair that you know before you die that I killed her."

I stare at him. "Wh-What?" He's… Joking, right? He has to be joking!

He smirks. "Oh, Twyla. You were so easy to play. When it happened, everyone was perfectly ready to assume that it was a suicide. There was only one person that wasn't so easily convinced. You." He smirks at me and his brown eyes are glinting in a way I've never seen before. "Somehow I had to convince her delusional, hysterical older sister that I wasn't to blame. So I set up this little plan. You were so ready to blame your step-father, that it didn't take much work to fixate your attention on him."

"Y-Your parents said you were in the house!"

"They thought I was." He gives me a sinister grin, and I crawl away from him, my heart pounding. "By playing your sleuthing partner, I was able to bring your focus to one subject. And, well, you crazy little nut you, it didn't take very long for you to fixate on proving it was him. My work was done. I kept playing your game, though, because the more delusional they all think you are, the less and less they'll believe you when you're actually telling them the truth."

"No! Peacekeepers are here, watching! THEY'LL KNOW!" I shout, my eyes prickling with tears.

"What are Peacekeepers going to do? Risk upsetting my parents?"

I scream and lunge across the room, grabbing him around the neck. He gasps for air, but between gasps, he's still smiling. Peacekeepers enter the room and rip us apart.

"YOU'LL NEVER GET AWAY WITH THIS!" I shout.

"She's INSANE!" he says, acting terrified. "She just… She just lunged on me, she's crazy!"

"I'M NOT CRAZY!" I shout. "THEY'LL BELIEVE ME! WHEN I'M A VICTOR THEY'LL BELIEVE ME!"

"You're just going to die as crazy as you lived," he says, and I scream again and fight the Peacekeepers to lunge at him, but I can't rip out of their grip. "Bye Twyla, have fun dying in the Games! Hey, why don't you tell Annie Boo I said hi when you see her again, eh?"

"YOU WILL NEVER SPEAK HER NAME AGAIN!" I scream at him, struggling against the Peacekeepers as they start to escort him out of the room.

"Hey, good luck getting anyone to take your delusional ass seriously," he says, giving me a cold, evil smile. "And may the odds be ever in your favor."

As soon as he's out of the room, the Peacekeepers drop me, and I hit the floor, screams ripping out of my throat. He will pay for this. I will come home and make him _pay_ for this!

I'm still screaming and punching the floor with all my might when Frax comes in.

"Twyla!" he says.

"HARRY KILLED HER!" I shout. "HARRY'S A FUCKING MURDERER!"

"Sh…" he says, dropping to the floor to be at my level. "You okay?"

"HARRY!" I shout, tears pouring down my cheeks. I let out a loud sob. I failed her again, even after failing her the first time. I should have known! I was so stupid!

"Twyla, it's going to be alright-"

"HARRY!" I shout, grabbing Frax's arm and squeezing it as tight as I can. "HARRY KILLED HER!"

"Hey, take it easy, take a deep breath, okay?" I stare at him, but do as he says. "Good, good, and again?" I focus on breathing, trying to get these stupid tears to subside.

"Frax, it was Harry, it was Harry all along… He just told me Frax!"

He just looks conflicted, and more tears pour out of my eyes. "Please, I'm telling the truth!"

"I…" he bites his lip. "I believe you."

"Please, you have to help me get justice for my sister! Please Frax!" I reach over and grab his hands. His ears flush, but his gray eyes look serious.

"I will," he says quietly. "I'll do whatever I can."

Tears pour out of my eyes and I can't help but sob. "Thank you!" I sob. I let go of his hands to wrap my arms around him. He's been too good to me. Even when I pushed him away, he was still kind and smiling. I probably never deserved that. He hugs me back and lets me sob into his neck, which I needed. I hold onto him tightly, his embrace tight and safe thanks to his muscles from working so much.

"Don't worry," he says quietly. "I'll get justice for her."

"Th-thank you," I say quietly.

When he lets go, he holds something out to me. An… Acorn?

"A token," he whispers quietly.

"Oh…" I take it. "Um, thanks."

"Time's up!" A Peacekeeper says.

"Twyla?" he says.

"Hm?"

"I… I, um… I…" he bites his lip and looks away. "I hope you come back home."

I wipe my eyes. "I will."

The Peacekeepers escort him away. Walden looks calmer, still smirking easily, when we meet up again, and Jadea takes us to the train.

As I stare out the window, at the blue sky and green landscape flying past, my sadness fades into fiery, angry determination.

 _I promise I will get justice for you, Annie. They'll have to listen to a Victor._

~.~.

 _ **A/N: Omg these chapters just keep getting longer and longer why T.T Turtle and Ezreal were just too much fun to write and I had to bring Gaylen back, I just had to. And Twyla just had a lot of backstory to get in there. Whoops. Oh well. Hope you like these characters! And there's only one more reaping chapter before we really get to see the other tributes in action!**_

 _ **Also, thanks so much to david12341 for Ezreal (+May), HogwartsDreamer113 for Sidonia and Walden (+Oren and Oden), and 66samvr for Jadea! Hope I did well with everyones' characters!**_

 _ **Thanks for all the support and reviews, I'm so excited to introduce you to our last two tributes and then really get the ball rolling!**_

 _ **Chapter Question: What did you think of Turtle and Twyla? Which did you like better and why?**_


	5. Trapped

_**A/N: Trigger warning for… Pretty much everything in the beginnings of Kaiser's first two POVs. Rape mentions, profane language, sex scene stuff (just the beginnings of it), violence (animals and humans), gambling references, anything you can think of.**_

* * *

 **Pre-Reaping**

-Serena Merlo, 16, District 8-

 _4:15 P.M._

It just hadn't been all that great a day for me, to be honest.

Summer is supposed to be fun, isn't it? That's what all the Capitol ads say. They advertise frilly, colorful swimsuits, booty shorts, smiling children, drinking cold beer and dancing outside with lights, cute sunhats, freedom from the clutches of school. Here in the Districts, there is really no such thing as summer. Work goes on year-round, and so does school. Maybe school wouldn't go so long if we went all day like the Capitolites. But since so many kids have to work, we have shorter school days so that the time can be split with work.

My mornings are spent in the sweatshop with the other ladies who are desperately trying to feed their families. My afternoons are spent in a dusty old classroom with some other people my age who still have the energy and life in them to go to school. Each year, our class size is smaller and smaller.

I hope I never become hollow. The thought of being hollow is one of the worst ones out there, that's for sure. And the worst part is that being hollow isn't something you can really control. I know that from experience, trust me. I have nightmares about one day waking up hollow. My resolve gone, my purpose gone, my very being sucked straight out of my body…

That thought makes me shiver a bit as I collect my books and put them into my backpack. There's only so much I can do to prevent that from happening, but I'm going to do everything I can.

I smile at one of the boys in my class who sits beside me as we pack up our bags. I have the feeling that I shouldn't have done it, which makes me sink a little when he smiles back, even waving a bit as he slings his bag over his shoulder and says, "Have a good day Serena."

"Thanks," I say, and as he leaves I take a breath. I can just hear the scolding from my mother echo around my head. Maybe I shouldn't have just done that…

 _No Serena,_ I tell myself, sighing as I sling my patched-up, raggedy old messenger bag over my shoulder. _He's a very nice boy and it's good to be nice to him._ The thought makes me uncomfortable though. Good thing my mother can't read minds. Or maybe she can and is just waiting for the moment to pounce on me, maybe- _No Serena. She's not here now. You're sixteen now, you can decide who you want to talk to._ I can't help but be uncomfortable at the knowledge that my mother would be angry, though. That's not exactly something I can just outgrow at the touch of a button, as much as I wish it was. It'll always be ingrained in me, somehow, even if I learn to ignore it I know that the reminders that I'm misbehaving will always be there.

 _He's a nice boy_ , I tell myself as I walk out to the hallway. _It's not a bad thing that his skin is dark._ I know it's true, I know that I need to control my prejudice, and I'm really trying my best.

"Hey Serena!" I jump at the hand on my shoulder, but relax when I see it's just Tilly. She laughs a little at how I jumped, but I can't help but feel a little uncomfortable. I hate it when they startle me, even when they don't mean to, and it's a bit annoying that they laugh. I guess I feel that way because of that sleepover that was spent entirely trying to scare me. But I never exactly mentioned that I genuinely don't like when they do it, so it's my own fault. I can't expect them all to read my mind, after all. I just laughed along because I didn't want to make it awkward. Yeah, I know that I should be outright about how I feel, but it's hard sometimes with them because they get so wrapped up in things that it's like talking to a brick wall…

I can't think about that now, though. Friends, yay… I've been having a bad day so maybe hanging out with them for a little while will help me to feel less grouchy. I never stay mad too long, after all. After a while it just gets exhausting, so why bother? I know people that can hold grudges to the grave, but I've never been that person and I doubt I ever will be.

"Sup?" Tilly asks, smiling at me.

"Not much. I had a pretty bad day, though."

"Oh man, that sucks…" She frowns so I just smile and shrug. I don't know why I always resort to the smile-and-shrug, I just do.

"Yeah… It's alright, though, I mean, I'll live."

"Hey!" Taya comes over and takes Tilly's hand, and I'm reminded about how angry my Mom would be if she had any idea who I hung out with. Taya is a pretty girl, dark skin and black hair in cornrows, and also Tilly's girlfriend.

"Hi Sweetie!" Tilly gushes, and I just sigh. Third-wheeling is _so_ much fun. They start talking about a pride meeting they're going to the next day, after the reaping. I'm only half-listening as we walk, looking for an excuse to leave them. I don't want to hurt their feelings, but at the same time I guess I'm just not in the mood to handle them being all lovey-dovey right now.

"Are you going to go Serena?" Tilly asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Huh?"

"The meeting tomorrow," Tilly says.

"I'm not going," I say, messing with the strap to my bag. "I have to be back home. My parents wouldn't exactly be cool about it…" I hate saying that. I don't want them to be afraid of me because of my parents…

"Besides, it's a _Pride_ meeting," Taya says. "So it was never really a question. It's not for allies."

I stare at our feet as we walk and just say, "Of course, sorry, my bad." I don't really know what else to say. As if I needed my day to get any worse than it already was.

"Oh yeah, I forgot that you're the Straight Friend," Tilly says, lauging. " _Boring,_ " she chirps in a sing-songy voice.

"Yeah, straight is definitely no fun," Taya says, smirking and kissing Tilly on the cheek. Once again it's as if I'm not even there, so I just laugh and nod, looking for any excuse to get me out of there.

I see a figure approach and my stomach drops. It's Vance. Oh God. I'm not sure I can face him yet, not after… Not after what happened yesterday, not after we had that conversation… Oh no… I just keep smiling.

"Hey guys!"

"Hi Vance," the others say in unison.

"Are you going to Pride tomorrow?" Tilly asks as we keep walking.

"Oh, yeah, I actually was," he says. "It's going to be so much _fun_! And I convinced Tiri to come too!"

"Oh my God that's amazing! Oh, they're going to have so much fun!"

"It's going to be so lit!" Tilly exclaims happily.

"I know right!?" Taya says. I just sigh, feeling sad all through my entire body. Every step is heavy and numb. But I just keep smiling and laughing. Nodding my head even though I probably shouldn't because this conversation doesn't concern me in the slightest.

"So, who's gonna be your date?" Tilly asks, "Which boy are you after now?"

Vance becomes awkward all of a sudden. My heart pounds in my chest. I shouldn't care his answer, but I can't help caring. I know I shouldn't, but I do… "Oh, uh… I don't have a date."

"Vance doesn't have a _date_?!" Taya asks dramatically. "What _ever_ will he do!?" I laugh and nod.

"I think I'll live," he says. I stop to tie my shoe, hoping that the other three will just walk past and leave me alone. I don't want to talk to them right now. But I don't want to start a scene or any drama. They keep walking but before they get away Vance turns around.

"Serena!" he calls.

"It's alright, you keep going!" I say, smiling at him. "I should be getting back home anyways!"

"Oh, uh, alright," he says. "Are… Are you sure?"

"Yeah," I say smiling. "I have to help make dinner!"

He loses the tension in his shoulders. "Oh, okay! Have a good evening then!"

"You too!" I say, waving at Tilly and Taya as I turn around to go the other way. I hear them all laughing together, loudly, and quickly walk the other way, hurrying my pace so that they don't notice I'm upset. Maybe that's not good of me to harbor all these feelings, but I know that they're not right feelings. I have no right to be upset about being excluded. Taya's right, it's not my place to take place in Pride. I just hate feeling so excluded all the time, that's all. But that's a petty worry, I can't imagine being marginalized and discriminated against like they have been. It really has no place being discussed with anyone. It's just better for me to get over it myself, without anyone knowing about it.

I get home and push the door open. I wasn't lying when I said I had to help make dinner. My family doesn't eat until later, though, close to six, so it wasn't exactly the truth. I just didn't want Vance to feel bad about being excited, that's all. After all, so many other people make them all feel bad for being who they are, I can't be one of those people. That wouldn't be good of me.

"You're back early," Mom comments, sitting at the kitchen table and reading a newspaper.

"Oh, yeah. I just really wasn't in the mood to hang out with anyone."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"It was just a bad day," I sigh.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she says. "Wanna talk about it?"

 _I couldn't._ "Oh, just a rough day at work. Stabbed myself in the finger with a needle and my machine kept getting jammed, all day long it got jammed. And school was just so stressful, I just wasn't following what he was saying and he wasn't slowing down at all…" I have to hold back tears. _Ugh, so pathetic._

"Close to your period?"

"What?"

"Come on, Serena, don't cry about it," she laughs. That just makes it worse.

"Yeah, I am close to my period," I say, voice shaking. She had no idea why I'm actually close to tears, of course, and that somehow just makes it even more horrible.

"Go take a nap, you sleepy grouch," she says teasingly, still sounding amused. "Come back out when you're not a mess so you can help with dinner."

I nod a bit and go to my room quickly. By the time I get there, the tears are gone, but the sinking feeling of sadness isn't. I lay on my bed and stare up at the ceiling. I don't want to cry, I don't want to do anything. I don't want to sleep. I feel horrible. I don't want to do anything. I take a deep breath, trying to get control over myself and my stupid, petty emotions.

I lay there numbly for a while, still staring at the planks of old, cracked wood that make up my ceiling, not doing anything, nothing but thinking. Thinking about the darkness that is threatening to overtake me. Petty feelings of hurt and jealousy because I will never understand any of my friends. Feelings of guilt for everything I've been hiding, from everyone…

"Serena, ready to help with dinner!?" My mother calls. I don't want to do it, I don't want to do anything. I feel awful.

I walk out to the kitchen.

"You have a good nap?" she asks.

I smile at her. "Of course, it was very refreshing."

"Good. Now go get some bread out of the kitchen."

I nod, smiling, and do as she says. Just like always.

.

-Kaiser Picasso, 18, District 10-

 _11:40 A.M._

I have her right where I want her.

The coast is totally clear for the first time in a long while. Alright, so it isn't exactly _clear_ , there are Peacekeepers at each entrance, batons in hands. But I know each of the guards and I know that none of them'll try to stop us. Or, at least, none of the ones that are posted near the bathrooms.

I know that this is my chance, but first I need to get Terzi. I notice her sitting down and hurry over to her table. She's pretty easy for me to lift, so I sweep her right off the bench. Lydia lets out a surprised noise, probably defensive considering she's the prettiest girl in prison (and has the biggest chest). When she sees that it's me, though, she relaxes.

"God, you scared me."

"C'mon, Terzi," I say, trying to control the smirk that spreads across my face. This isn't exactly an uncommon occurrence. Hey, I have to make some fun somehow, right? Like they're going to let us have fun in _this_ shithole.

"I don't really have a choice, do I?" she asks, an eyebrow quirked up when she smirks up at me. It's always hot when she does that. She knows exactly what I want, and I know exactly what she wants. And we're both more than willing to give.

I let the smirk go back at her, and she adjusts so that her legs are wrapped securely around my waist, arms around my neck. Her warmth in all the right places kicks me into gear, and I hurry to the men's room, where I know nobody would dare disturb us.

Thanks to the neglectful guards all being stationed together on the east side, I don't even have to sneak. That's probably a good thing, though, because I feel like I wouldn't be able to sneak at this point. It's hard to think when there's such a hot girl clinging tightly onto me. Come on, her tits are practically _in my face_ , how the hell am I _supposed_ to function?! God, that's definitely intentional. Terzi's not dumb, she knows how much I want to get her out of the drab T-shirt and sweats we have to wear and stick my face in her tits and kiss and suck and nibble like crazy. And that's not even accounting for the warmth of her bottom half, grinding against me with every intentional move.

I stumble along, ignoring the glances of the others, who all know what's about to go down. I always look forward to the cyclic switching of the guards that makes it possible to capitalize off this opportunity.

After what feels like a million miles of walking, I finally reach the dim, drab, old bathroom. JUgh, just in time. As soon as I enter the room I press her somewhat forcefully against the wall. She grabs the front of my shirt and pulls me closer, desperately trying to close the nonexistent distance between us. Ugh, how do girls always just smell so good? Not to mention their taste. Ugh. It's just not fair. I can feel her knuckles against my chest, still gripping my shirt, as I kiss her roughly, fast and intense.

The first couple times we did this little stunt, we tried to do it in the tiny, grimy stall, but now we have the security of knowing that everyone else would keep their distance. Maybe I should feel bad that the other guys would use this as an excuse to go into the girls' room, but I just can't help himself. Who in their right mind would pass up on the opportunity to get a fix, right?

Ugh, so maybe that wasn't exactly on the route to being a good person, but I just can't be perfect all the time. I have to have my fun, and it's not like anything's here to stop me. Damn, she looks good like that. Her black hair is up in a messy ponytail, her brown eyes smirking with that predatory look that is mirrored in mine. Even in the drab olive shirts and gray sweats, somehow she still looks amazing. Hm. Probably because of her tits.

Yeah, maybe that's shallow. But hey, I don't pretend I'm not shallow. In a place like this, why would I?

Besides, Terzi knows exactly how I see her and I know how she sees me: muscle, sculpted abs, a hulking presence that smelled like sweat and dominance with the skill to go as long and fast as she wanted. She could be dominant too, when she wanted to be, but I don't give up his alpha position easily. Those battles are saved for when we've got more privacy and more time. For now, we're just acting upon instinct. And trust me, I may not be able to pin down a thought, but I'm having a _lot_ of instincts.

I keep her pressed tight against the wall, my hands finding their way up the bottom of her shirt. I move in closer, so close her fist around my shirt is trapped between the two of us. Her fingers drag themselves through my hair- or, well, what little of it there was as it was cropped short due to prison regulations- and caress my face, running through the stubble that's started to grow as the kiss becomes more intense. Her legs are tight around my waist, and every time either of us moves there was that hot, delicious friction that makes me _crazy_.

I break off the kiss but don't pull back, kissing her neck, nibbling and sucking, not really giving a damn if she ends up with hickeys. Maybe I should care, but I can't help it, the prospect of marking her up is just far too tempting.

"Careful," she hisses, causing me to peer up at her, and give a sheepish smile.

"Sorry," I say. "You're just too tempting."

She laughs a little, but then she bit her lip. That's odd of her. I've never seen her do anything like that before… Oh, well, it's no big deal, right? I push her tight against the wall and continue to kiss her neck, drawing little moans out of her that she tries so desperately to keep quiet. I can't help the smirk that spreads across my face at that. This is just far too fun to stop.

Soon I can't control myself anymore, eagerly pulling her shirt off to reveal the drab nude bra that's protocol (dammit, today is gonna be the day I'm able to unclasp it without help and without looking!) and, more importantly, those beautiful tattoos that were done by her own hand. God, they're so hot. I lean in to kiss them but stop in surprise when she makes a high-pitched, squeaking noise. Now that's really odd. I mean, we've done this so many times before, and nothing like this had ever happened.

"Hm?"

"Er…" she bites her lip again. Not the sexy lip-bite, some other kind of lip-bite.

I sigh and raise an eyebrow at her, confused. Girls and their feelings. I'm not fucking mind reader, I dunno what the hell she's thinking about right now.

"I'm not really feeling it," she says finally, looking away from me. She's not really feeling it? What? I just feel more confused.

"Did I do something?" I feel like I have to ask.

"No, it… Look, I don't have a good reason, okay? I just don't want to." Still isn't looking at me. I've never seen her with her eyes on the ground like this. I mean, she's not exactly the nervous type. After all, she and I are both in for the same thing: murder. Not to mention she's technically older than me at nineteen.

I wait for a second, processing the words, before stepping back, which allows her to let go, feet hitting the ground. I bend down to retrieve her shirt and hold it out to her. By the time she's put it back on, I feel like I probably should have looked away when I was handing it to her. Whoops.

"Sorry," she mutters. She looks… Ashamed, almost. Heh. Never seen her like that. I get why she would be, though. After all, when it gets down to it, we're all one in the same: criminals locked up in a place where the only way to survive was being tough. We all have shadows, and dark sides, that come out at the worst of times. We're the worst of the worst, that's just who we are. Somehow each of us earned time in this horrible place, and the only way to survive is to be mean. And this is the biggest slip of the façade I've ever seen from her. It's almost funny. Almost. Mostly pathetic.

"Eh," I shrug. "It's cool. I always have Stella." Oh Stella. The yoga instructor with jugs even bigger than Terzi's, and even more tasty because she wasn't a prisoner. Tasting her was almost like tasting freedom, somehow. I took her yoga class because of her tits, even if I figured I'd never get to really see them at least I could pretend. She was way easier to convince than I thought. Guess the twenty-three-year-old woman just wanted the thrill of hooking up with a bad boy, a prisoner, a possible psychopath, and how could she resist the eighteen-year-old boy with muscles and that dominant, nasty attitude? It was a pleasant surprise. The other pleasant surprise that came from that is that yoga is actually super relaxing and I ended up liking it a bunch. "Or Hattie."

Lydia nods a bit. Now we're just standing in the dim, cold bathroom and staring at each other. I have no idea what to say to her now… This is awkward.

"Might wanna go eat your portion," I try.

"Someone probably already stole it," she sighs, sitting on the floor with her back against the wall. Yeah, that's probably true. Okay, now I really do feel bad. I'm really not sure what to do now, just awkwardly standing in front of her as she looks up at me. I mean, I don't just wanna leave her here in the men's room, and she's probably hellbent on not letting the others know she tapped out. Can't be weak. _You gotta be a predator, you can't be prey._ Her own words.

"So…" I stick my hands awkwardly in his pants. I always used to have my hands in my pockets before ending up here, and since we don't have pockets on these sweat pants, I just have a habit of straight-up sticking them in my pants.

"You can take me if you want," she says finally, looking up at me with that headstrong fiery look in her eyes. "We both missed lunch already."

As good as that sounds, I know that I just can't do it. Instead, I hesitate for a moment before turning to put my back against the grimy bathroom wall, where I slide down until I'm sitting next to her. His shoulder's touching hers a little, so I scoot over slightly so it doesn't.

We sit there in silence. Hell if either of us knows what to say.

"How's your ink?" she asks, finally. "Healed and good?"

"Yeah, as healed as it's gonna be." I turn my wrist and hold it out to her, which she takes in her hands to examine. Sure enough, the little single-needle balloon that she'd put on my wrist is just as clean as it was when she applied it, and much less red.

"You never did tell me why you asked for this," she says, glancing over at me. Oh no… "What's her name?"

I almost inhale my own spit at that, surprised. How-how did she know!? God, that's embarrassing… It's times like this I'm thankful for my darker complexion. It better hides my blush. "I'm sorry?" I ask, trying to play it cool.

"I've done enough tattoos to know that a big, burly guy like yourself doesn't just ask for some dainty-ass balloon or flower or whatever without it being for a girl."

"Oh…" I can physically feel the heat going to my ears.

"Who is she then?" Lydia asks impatiently. Oh boy… Am I really going to tell her? Ugh, she's not going to believe me if I lie. Fuck.

"This is so embarrassing," I grumble. I guess I always knew she would ask this sometime, though, so I can't say I'm not prepared for it. "Camry. That's her name."

"Camry. Hm."

"Yeah. She's… My mother."

I feel her eyes turn to look at me. "Are you serious?"

I awkwardly rub the back of my neck, embarrassed. "Um, yeah. She's still up and kicking, outside this place." Now my eyes hit the floor as my mind races back to that horrible time when… "I, uh, after my whole incident, she was arrested too. Sentenced to a year. I… I thought for sure she was dead." _Damn, so much for the façade._ Oh well. I know that the whole tough guy façade is going to have to go down eventually if I'm gonna have any hope at keeping myself under control long enough to keep my sentence from being extended again. I'd already added years just by fighting and being violent. I want to change, to get out sooner so I can be back home with Mom again. The tattoo of the balloon, the free balloon allowed to fly in the wind, reminds me of that. God, that's embarrassing. Why the hell did I just tell her that? I guess I felt bad that she cracked…

"Oh. I… I see." Lydia puts her hand on my shoulder lightly. "That's sweet of you."

 _I'm becoming such a softie_ , I think. That causes a small grin to appear on my face. I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing.

"You can't tell anyone about this," I tell her quickly. Can't have my rep go out the window just yet, after all. Yikes.

"Only if you don't tell them about… This."

I smile a little bit. I think I'm on the road to being a better person. The road to freedom. To making Mom proud. Maybe. Somehow. "You have my word."

"So-"

A loud clamor comes about just then as the door is thrown open and Gunther enters the room, carrying Diaz. Terzi and I stand up quickly, hoping he didn't notice how we were sitting. He seems far too concerned with the girl he's carrying to care, though.

"Sorry not sorry, Picasso," Elliot says, talking over Margaret's impatient whimpers. "You were taking too long," he looks over at me just long enough to wink.

"We were just recovering," I say, trying to come up with a lie on the spot, "You can have the space." I glance back behind my shoulder at Lydia. "Let's scram, eh Terzi?" I don't need to ask twice.

"You've had your fun, now it's our turn," Gunther calls after us as I take Lydia's hand and we escape the scene together, trying to ignore the sounds of Dias's mewls.

* * *

 **Reaping Day**

-Serena Merlo, 16, District 8-

 _9:00 A.M._

I wake up to my Mother yelling for us. When I roll over to check the time, I cover my head with a pillow. It's only nine, all I want to do is sleep for another century. After all, the reaping doesn't even start until eleven! I know that she'll get mad if I fall back asleep, though. She's a very hard worker and likes to keep us all up and productive as long as we can.

"Let's go you two!" she calls. "It may be reaping day, but that doesn't mean we can sleep through it!"

I sigh quietly, sitting up slowly. I feel a horrible sad feeling course through me. Probably just because I'm tired… And because I really just could not sleep last night. When I'm left alone to think, think is exactly what I do. Probably too much for my own good, but I can't help it. As much as I try to distract myself with the good things that happened to me through the day, the worries and anxieties for the reaping was just too powerful. It didn't help that my day was horrible, either. Ugh.

Today is a new day, but right now it doesn't feel like it.

Slowly, I sit up, rubbing my eyes and squinting at the sun that streams into my window through the shoddy blinds. The sun is shining bright, and I try to let that give me some kind of energy or solace.

I walk slowly to the bathroom, where I do my business and then go back to my room to get dressed, feeling more awake when I stretch. I find a nice red velvet dress with a white collar and put it on, reaching around to zip up the back and not even thinking about what I'm going to do with my hair. I grab a comb and sit on my bed, running it through my long, wavy, dark brown hair. It's super snarly today, so it takes extra patience to keep from just ripping the knots out. I whisk the comb through my hair and try not to think too much. The reaping's going to happen whether or not I'm terrified of it, my friends are going to do their thing afterwards no matter how estranged and lonely I feel, so it's just best not to think about it. After all, I'll get to see them before the reaping, right? That'll be nice. And I have Walker to spend my afternoon with. That'll be good too.

Once the knots have been smoothed in my hair, I keep running my comb through it. I can't help the anxiety that binds my chest and makes me worry. I wish I could, but I just can't. I mean, I'm used to the feeling, I feel like this every time I run off with my friends, lie to my parents, and try to branch out. What if I'm wrong? There's always the worry of being caught breaking the rules. It's not going to be pretty when they find out. I can only hope that the day they do is years ahead. After all, I'm just sixteen, I'm still a kid. I don't have anything really figured out yet. Which is, of course, another thought that fills me with anxiety. It's just a helpless cycle of me working myself up. It's really awkward to talk about with anyone because it seems that the people around me all have it figured out. What are they going to tell me?

I decide to tie my hair in a wavy, low side ponytail that swishes across my left shoulder. I wish I had some kind of clip to put into it, but I do live in District Eight. Finding a hairpiece that would actually go with the outfit for a reasonable price is asking for a miracle.

Once I'm ready to go, I walk out the door and head to the room beside mine, to check up on Walker. My brother is still sleeping, a lump in the sheet that covers his bed.

"Walker," I say, suddenly feeling worried. "Did you hear Mom?"

He grumbles and rolls over. I walk over and sit on the thirteen-year-old's bed. "Walker, you gotta get up now. Mom's gonna be really mad if you don't."

"Don't care," he says, covering his head with his pillow.

"Walker…" I say quietly. "Please."

He doesn't move, and I frown. I hate it when Mom yells, and I know he hates it, and I know that it makes his depression even worse. But for some reason when he gets in these moods he just can't be bothered. I try to not be annoyed, though. _Patience, Serena_.

"You have to get up now," I say. "Before she gets mad."

"Serena," he groans. "I don't care."

It's hard when he just doesn't care. I can't convince him to do anything if he honestly just doesn't care. I shake my head and stand up. "Well you should think about getting up soon," I say, and leave it at that.

I go back to my room, where I find the shiny black flats I'm wearing the reaping and slide them on. I hear footsteps come down the hall that I recognize as my mother's. I really don't want to be there when she finds him. I go down to the kitchen, where my father is at the table.

"Mornin'," he says quietly.

"Morning," I respond, sinking into a seat just as I hear the pound of Mom stomping her feet. Dad winces, and I must wince as well because he has an understanding look in his eyes. I'm glad I came out to the kitchen, where at least I can pretend I don't hear everything she's saying.

"She's so loud," he mutters irritably. "Always trying to control everything as always."

I sink into my seat. I don't disagree, but it's pretty off-putting to hear my father talk like that about his wife. If marriage is nothing but complaining about each other when you're older, then I never want to get married. Then again, there are plenty of reasons I won't want to get married, but I'm not even going to go there. I don't want to have a nervous breakdown now, here, in front of my father.

We eat in silence, nothing to break it but the sounds of my mother's muffled yelling through the walls.

"When will the kid grow out of this?" my father grumbles, sipping some tea.

I stare at the table, and just shrug in response. I don't want to say anything. I don't want him to be condescending towards me like I know he would be if I open my big mouth.

"He's going to have to learn that life is how it is, and that he doesn't own this place."

I eat silently, not looking at him. I don't want to tell him what I really think. I don't want anyone to know what I really think.

"He's only thirteen, for goodness sake," Dad continues, "You weren't nearly this bad as a young teen. I suppose it's because you're a girl."

"Wouldn't the girl typically be worse?" I ask, sounding purely curious and hiding the bitter undertones.

"You would think, wouldn't you?" Dad sighs. I just nod a little bit, still smiling. "Apparently not."

 _Or maybe your son actually has a mental illness_ , I think, but I don't say it out loud. I just really don't want to rile him up or start conflict. Not now, with what's happening in the other room. We keep eating in silence until my mother's heavy footsteps plod back out to the kitchen as she sits down, the anger and stress still etched on her face.

"Who does that kid think he is?" she asks, still scowling. "I oughta slap him silly."

"Please don't," I squeak out, surprised I even spoke up. Both pairs of eyes fall on me, and there's a tense silence before my parents just wordlessly go back to eating. I pick at the bread, ripping small pieces off and putting them slowly into my mouth. The truth is that I'm not all too hungry at the moment.

"He's really becoming a little twat," my mother complains. "How embarrassing! He'd better grow out of that attitude quickly. It's been _long enough_." Her tone, serious and angry, scares me, but I try not to sink into my seat. "There is no excuse for how he's acting."

I consider bringing up the depression thing again. It could be simple, I could do it in a way that makes it seem like I agree with them, but I already know what they're going to say. And honestly, I don't want to hear it. So why should I ask or bring it up? I hate it when they talk like that so any measure I can take to prevent from having to sit through it is worth keeping my mouth shut.

"He's a teenager now," my mother continues. "He needs to grow the hell up and stop using this depression excuse." It takes everything in me to keep from hitting my head on the table at that. Guess I'm going to have to sit through it after all, and smile and nod like I agree, as always. "Maybe if he stopped convincing himself he was so _special_ he would realize he's just doing it to himself."

"He just wants attention," my father says.

"And free drugs," she adds, "Bought with our paychecks, including Serena's." I try not to appear too tense.

"How are you holding up?" my father asks, glancing at me.

"Oh, I'm alright."

"You seem… Tense."

"Nervous. Just nervous."

"Well, there are plenty of other girls with more slips in there than you. Besides, it's no use worrying about it now. We still have an hour, and you still need to do your chores."

"I know," I say quietly. "I'll start on that now."

"You can start by sweeping," my Mom says, gesturing to where the broom is.

I nod. I get the broom and get to work. It's a long hour of doing chores. It wouldn't have to nearly as long if I didn't do Walker's chores, but I hate him to be yelled at and really don't mind doing them for him. I sweep, dust, do everything to keep the house looking ship-shape, while he sits in bed and combs his hair. I know that he wouldn't have the energy to do chores today after what happened this morning. I really don't mind doing this for him. I hate when Mom gets angry and she never pays attention enough to know who does the chores anyways. I hope that I can finish in time to have some time to get my bearings before we have to leave for the reaping, but unfortunately I'm just barely lucky to finish in time to leave.

Before I know it, we have to leave to walk to the reaping. We live half an hour from the square by foot, and since Mom doesn't like to ride public transportation (it makes her sick, she says), we usually just make the walk. I worry if Walker is going to be able to handle it, and he doesn't talk at all as we're being herded out the door. The last thing my mother would want was to be late.

The walk is silent. Mom is still simmering from earlier, Dad is still quiet and frustrated, and I still don't want to get in the middle of it. We stay in silence the whole way, the only noises being grunts or complaints by Mom that we're not moving fast enough. I feel nothing but relief when the Square comes into sight. My parents both hug Walker and I goodbye before we get in line and they go to the section for those that aren't eligible.

Walker doesn't talk, so I just stand there in silence. I look around, hoping that maybe I'd spot Til or Taya, or Vance or Tiri. They would all be riding to the reapings together in the bus they sent to pick up the people from our area. I wish I could go with them, but that's just life I guess. We're the back of the line for a while, before a group of younger-looking kids approaches, in a huddle. Their hands are up, in the shapes of fake guns held to their chests as they skillfully walk together to the back of the line.

"Agent Baker to Agent Poole," one of them says, holding a hand to his ear like there's an earpiece there.

"This is Agent Poole," one of the others says.

"Coast is clear here, over," he says.

"Same here," the other says.

I smile at the group, trying to get the courage to talk to them. "Are you secret agents?" I ask, smiling at them.

"Affirmative, Ma'am," the only girl in the group pipes up. "I am Agent Tiffany, and these are my colleagues. Stand down!" she says, "She's not dangerous."

I giggle a bit at that. "I see. Nice to meet you, Agent Tiffany and crew."

"I'm Agent Baker," the tallest of them pipes up.

"And I'm Agent Poole," says another.

"And this is Agent Sav," Tiffany says, pointing to the last one.

"Nice to meet you all," I say. "I'm Serena. Not an agent, though. And this is my little brother Walker." I put a hand on his shoulder, but when he glares at me I quickly remove it and mouth an apology. Dammit, I know he hates being touched, I should have known better…

"Good to make your acquaintance, Serena and Walker," the boy named Baker says with a bright smile and a wink. When he does that, Poole bumps Sav on the shoulder, who shoots him a look, though the oblivious Baker doesn't notice. I smile a little at that, but when Sav makes a cut-it-out motion at me I try to control it.

"How old are you all?" I ask. They seem to be around Walker's age. Maybe he'd fit in well to their group. Well, I doubt that, but at least I can try.

"Fourteen!" Baker says proudly.

"The rest of us are all thirteen," Tiffany says. Walker glares at me, knowing what I'm going to say next, but I say it anyways.

"Walker's thirteen too!"

"Then he's automatically cool!" Poole says. Walker keeps facing front, arms crossed, not looking back. He might not be in the mood to talk to them, but maybe if they live close enough…

"Yeah, thirteen was a good age to be," I say.

"Fourteen's even better!" Baker says, smiling proudly.

"Yeah, fourteen's not bad either." We banter back and fourth a little more before I hear voices calling my name.

"Serena!" I turn around to see Vance leave his spot in the middle of the line to come towards me in the back.

"Oh, hey!" I say, smiling to hide the pain at seeing his face. "How're you doing?"

"A bit nervous, but that's life." I notice the fifteen-year-old that followed him back.

"Hi Tiri," I say gently, smiling.

"Hi," they say quietly, giving Walker a brief glance.

"Just think, it'll be over soon," I say, trying to calm their nerves as much as I can before the reaping starts.

"I… I hope," they say quietly.

"It's just fifteen minutes." It's pointless to try and raise their spirits, or Vance's, or anyone's.

"First reaping in the right section!" Vance says cheerfully. That doesn't last, though. I understand that it must be exciting for him, but at the same time… That's not going to make anyone less at risk of being reaped.

"First reaping we'll be apart," I say with a weak smile. "As it should be," I add quickly.

"Yeah, that sucks. I wish we could just all stand together and they didn't have to separate us."

"Yeah, me too," I say quietly.

"We'll be alright, though," he says, placing a hand on my shoulder and giving me a confident smile. I look away after a second, though. I'm still thinking about what happened between us a couple days back. He takes his hand off quickly and looks away, and I can see pain flash on his face. I hate myself for what I did, but at the same time I didn't have another choice.

"I think we're going to register soon," Tiri says quietly. I feel horrible that they have to be in the middle of this. They sound so awkward, even more than usual, so I quickly perk back up.

"Oh, right. Just fifteen minutes, remember, then it'll be over and it'll be an entire year before you have to deal with it again."

"Fifteen minutes," they say. When a booth opens up, Vance is the first to go to the booth. Walker goes next, then Tiri, then me. I get my finger pricked and go to the sixteen-year-old section for girls. I stand by myself, looking for Tilly and Taya in the seventeens section but not being able to see over the taller girls standing in the crowd.

Soon, the reaping starts with the mayor's announcement, and the Treaty of Treason is read. And after that, Stafford Silverstein takes the stage. She's a young woman that looks like someone sucked all the color out of her, with a sleek gray bob, dull grayed-out skin, and a white and gray outfit. The only touch of color is her eyes, which are a bright neon green.

"Welcome, District Eight, to the reaping for the Sixty-First annual Hunger Games!" she speaks slowly and succinctly, but still sounds excited to reap two teenagers to their deaths. That thought makes my stomach do a flip. "It is a pleasure to be here. For your viewing pleasure, here is a video straight from the Capitol itself!" she gestures to the big screen as the video plays. As soon as it's over, she's right back to business.

"First, let's choose our female tribute." She walks over to the bowl, and my heart starts to pound in my chest. "Please welcome… Serena Merlo to the stage."

There's a collective sigh across the District, but I still haven't released the breath I was holding. Her words echo in my head, again and again. _Serena Merlo… Serena Merlo…_ Realizing suddenly how much time I'm taking by just standing there, I jump into action, scurrying through the crowd and up the steps so that no Peacekeepers have to take me. My heart pounds, I feel fear, horrible fear, nothing but awful fear in my chest, suffocating me, holding me tightly…. _Be cool Serena_ , I think desperately, but now's not the time to be cool. I can't stop the tears that come to my eyes as Stafford asks for volunteers. No responses. I'm officially a tribute.

Stafford then reaches into the bowl to pick another name. The name of someone that will fight beside me.

"Please welcome… Savile Kigour."

I wait, holding my breath again, to see who it could possibly be. When my new District partner steps out of the thirteen-year-old section, tears start pouring down my face as I let out a sob. Savile, one of the kids in the group of Secret Agents, walks slowly up to the stage, his eyes wide and his lower lip quivering.

Stafford makes a disappointed noise as Agent Sav mounts the stairs. She asks for volunteers, but nobody steps up, as is usual, which seals his fate. "Shake hands now, tributes," she says, her bright synthetic eyes glinting in annoyance as I put my hand out, holding back sobs, to squeeze Sav's, who stares up at me with eyes that don't release the tears that are so desperately trying to exit them.

"Everyone, your tributes, Serena Merlo and Savile Kigour." The two of us practically run back to the Justice Building together.

.

-Kaiser Picasso, 18, District 10-

 _12:20 A.M._

It was a pretty long day, but I'm literally not tired at all. It's nice that we actually get to shower because of the reaping, and after that I lay awake in bed.

"Hey, man. You awake?" Gunther's voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

"Yeah," I sigh. No point in lying.

"Not scared for the reapings, are you?" he asks, his voice laced with condescension at the thought that I'd be concerned for my life. That's just the life.

"Of course not," I say, rolling my eyes. It's my last yaer, after all. "I'm sure you're just plagued with nightmares about me being reaped." It's kind of a lame comment, but Elliot's twenty-two so I can't exactly snip about him.

Gunther just snorts, a noise that puts me on edge because it means he's going to be condescending. "Of course," he says. "Like you couldn't be replaced by some other random muscle-y guy that can't control himself."

I grit my teeth, but hold my tongue. I focus on controlling the anger, and not letting it get the best of me. _Deep breaths. Just keep on taking deep breaths. Don't let him get in your head_. "You really couldn't be replaced," I quip, "There can only be one king of the assholes."

Gunther just laughs again, that annoying, breathy laugh that makes me feel like a goddamn idiot. "Sometimes I forget you're so young, then you go and say juvenile shit like that."

I clench my first, so tightly my stubby fingernails dig into my palm. "I'm not that much younger than any of y'all."

"I mean, you're the only prisoner that's going to the reaping this year."

"That's not true," I say, trying not to sound too _juvenile_ and defensive. "Did you just suddenly forget about Margaret? That's kind of rude, considering you fucked her lights out this afternoon."

Gunther gives low, menacing-sounding chuckle. "I could never forget tiny Diaz. You're the only prisoner that plays with the big dogs eligible. How's that?"

"She plays with the big dogs," I say. After all, I've been trying to talk to her in hopes that her nice-ness would rub off on me a little bit. She's such a shy, mousy girl. It's kind of crazy that she was so willing to just run off with Gunther like that and take such a risk. Even the good ones need a fix, I guess.

Gunther keeps chuckling, which makes me feel a lot less safe. _What did I say?_ "Juvenile as always," he sigh, and I can just hear that jackass smile on his face. It seems he has no other expression. Everyone copes in different ways to being thrown in here, I guess. "She doesn't play with the big dogs. The big dogs play with _her_. She's like a scraggly stray cat thrown into the ring for the dogs to mangle. You know what I mean, don't you?"

"Yeah," I say quietly. The memories of fights in the pit flash before my eyes. Snow on the ground, shivering, pathetic animals, shredding up cats and then each other. So much blood, so much violence. Wads of money in coat pockets, taking what was his and giving what he lost. Maybe he hadn't ever actually _fought_ dogs, but he was just as guilty as the rest of them as he bet on the matches. It was just such an easy way to make money. It became something terrible. Much more terrible. "I don't see her like that."

Gunther laughs again. I really don't like how much he's laughing. "Of course you wouldn't. You're not exactly the dog anyone with a brain would bet on."

I have no idea what to say next. I wish I was better with the whole comeback thing, but I've never really been that sassy.

"You're the small, scraggly one that a rookie brings in, thinking he can top the big ones." I know all too well what he's talking about. God, I wish I didn't.

"I think we were talking about Diaz," I say. Maybe it was wrong to just throw her back under the bus, but I don't know how to respond. After all, I'm currently split between two personalities: the big dog and the reformed citizen. I know that I can't live as both forever, but I'm not ready to choose one yet.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. God, she was easy. Five minutes in and she just gave up fighting."

A chill runs through my body. "Fighting?"

"What, you think shy little princess would let someone like me take her in the bathroom?" he chuckls. "She's not nearly as thirsty as Terzi."

"So… You never got her permission."

"Big dogs don't need permission," he trills lightly. "They do what they want. You gotta learn that lesson fast if you wanna stick with us."

God, I don't want to know what happens to me if I'm not a big dog. At the same time, though, I can't control the anger that is coursing rapidly through my body at the realization of what he did. "What the fuck!?"

"You never got what you wanted from Terzi today, did you?"

I feel another chill. I'm glad it's dark so he can't see me shiver. That would be terrible. "Of course I did," I say, trying to sound as confident as possible.

"I'm not dumb, Picasso," Gunther says. I can hear him smiling. _Oh God, this is bad_. "I listened through the door. Tryin' to hear when you were done and we could barge. Didn't hear anything. And we all know how loud Terzi is."

Each word makes me angrier and angrier, but I try to keep control. I sit up, hugging my pillow tightly to keep the anger from coming out in a way I'd regret. I clench my teeth, breathing hard as each heartbeat pumps more anger into my body.

" _Big dogs get what they want_ ," Gunther says again, pointedly, and dammit, I can _hear_ the satisfaction in his voice… That fucking satisfaction at what he did, that goddamn fucking satisfaction that makes me tumble through time until I'm sixteen again and face-to-face with that fucking Peacekeeper that had the audacity to stare at me while he was stripping my mother's shirt off as she fought him and his friends, the way they all _laughed!_ Each pulse brings more red to my vision as I imagine him with that easy smile. I try to breathe, clenching my teeth and trying to keep from lunging at him and ripping his motherfucking face off… Each pulse pumps more anger through my veins, rapidly coursing through my body, my arms, legs, neck, back…

Oh God, I can't take it anymore! The memories are just too present. He's asking for it, that fucking jerk is asking for it!

I throw the pillow to the side and lunge out of bed, straight to Gunther's, who had just sat up. I see red, looking into the face of the man who tried to play with my mother, the man who played with a teenager goddammit this fucking asshole! I pin him to the bed, wrapping my hands around his goddamn neck. _CHOKE!_ He wanted to yell, _YOU GODDAMN BASTARD, CHOKE!_

Elliot's eyes seem to glint in the dark as he chokes.

"G-onna kill me, eh? Get a li-fe sentence you fucking psy-cho," he chokes out with a weak laugh. The balloon on my wrist seems to sting just like it had when Lydia tattooed it, and I let go of Gunther's neck. I can't afford that. I couldn't stand to have a life sentence. I can't afford it.

Elliot is right back to that asshole smirk that starts to infuriate me again. "Guess I owe Schroder some cigs. I bet you'd last longer before you cracked," he laughs, coughing a bit. God, I hate him! This asshole deserves to die a slow and painful death for all the shit he's thrown and the terrible things he's done! He deserves to be dead, dead like that Peacekeeper, choking on blood and stained crimson dammit fucking shit! But dammit, I know that I couldn't stand to be whipped again, not a life sentence, I have to get back home.

"Well? What're you going to do now?" Gunther askes, his voice taking on that sultry tone. The last thing I want to do is have sex with this horrible fucking psycho! But at the same time, this is the only way I'm going to get him back for what he did, the fucking masochist. After all, we have a deal: we don't fight, we hate-fuck. And we argue a lot. It's a great excuse to hurt him as much as I want to, no matter how much he fights back. If we make it a kink, the wards don't yell at us.

Whoever thought it was a good idea to throw a murderer in a cell with an assaulter is lucky that we're both super queer and super horny. Otherwise we certainly would have both gotten life sentences by this point.

I stand up, grabbing Gunther by the shirt and pulling him up, shoving him against the wall as hard as I possibly can so that his back is facing me.

"For a puppy you're a pretty good fuck," Gunther quips, still laughing in that stupid way of his that makes the corners of my vision go red.

"I've had plenty of experience," I say, tugging his shirt off and pressing his bare chest against the cold, stone wall. I shove his shirt into his mouth as far as I can, tying it tightly so that he won't be too loud when I destroy him. I bite at his neck, dragging my nails down Gunther's now exposed back, pressing down as hard as I can into the soft flesh, causing Gunther to ball his fists and moan into the shirt. The noise just makes me angrier though. He's not going to enjoy this, I'm going to make sure of that!

"Shut the _fuck_ up," I hiss close to his ear. I don't wanna hear it. Not tonight. I'm so fucking angry still and that's certainly not going to change any time soon. How did he think hurting someone like that was alright?! It's a good thing I have free reign. I bury his nails as deep as I can push them into Gunther's sides and can't help but smirk at how quickly he crumples. I make sure to keep him pressed tightly against the cold, rough, concrete wall, where his only solace is my warm mouth on his neck and the heat of my boner against his ass. I have to say, being in charge like this does give me a rush. Almost as good as the rush I get with a successful gamble, but… Not quite.

I bite on the back of Gunther's back, sinking my teeth into his flesh and biting until I taste blood. The metallic taste and the warmth of the seeping aren't particularly pleasant, but the discomfort was vastly outweighed by the knowledge that Gunther is probably in absolute _agony_. It's gone past the point of being arousing and to the point of being miserable for him, as shown by his trying to fight back, but I keep him pinned. He's not getting out of this that easily. And that knowledge is all I need in that moment.

I take my good old time playing rough with Gunther, scratching and biting until I am absolutely positive there are tears in his eyes. That's when I yank him off the wall and shov him onto the bed, stripping off my pants and his. Then, I stick the bottom of my shirt in my mouth to keep from waking anyone, smirking when I think of the pain I have yet to bring on this jerk. He's definitely not going to be able to walk tomorrow, I'm gonna be sure about that.

 _Well, you know what they say,_ I think, _All's well that ends well._

I'm going to get my fix after all.

.

I'm not even sore the next morning. Sure, I let Gunther bury his fingers in my hips and such, but Elliot was far too weak to do anything of real damage. I can't help but feel smug at how horrible he looks getting ready for the reaping.

"You could have gone a little less harsh, you know?" he spit out angrily, but I just smirked and shrugged. Gunther had dragged me through just as bad when I wasn't even expecting it. It's hard for me to feel too bad about it.

I wait excitedly for the Peacekeepers to come get me. After all, my mom always visits on big days like today, and once a month. I'm actually really looking forward to seeing my mom. Usually I have something to feel guilty about when I talk to her, but this time I can't really think of anything. Sure, maybe I feel a little bad about what I did to Gunther, but not really. He deserved it.

Sure enough, my name is being called and I let the Peacekeepers escort me to the visiting room. There's a wall separating me from my mother, a thick pane of glass between us. Seeing her face is enough for me, though.

"Hey Sweetpea," she says, smiling when I come into view and sat down across the glass from her.

"Hi Mom," I say. I can't help but smile at the sight of her, too. She always tries to remain as cheery as possible, which I appreciate. Sometimes I just need a little bit of brightness in my day. Especially on a day like today.

"How're you holding up, Baby?" she asks, her brown eyes looking concerned.

"I'm alright," I say. I never answer that question honestly. Maybe if I had a reason to feel happy, I would be able to. I just hate worrying her, and things are never all that great in this horrible place.

"Oh, sweetie," she says, frowning.

"It's okay," I say. "I'm still trying really hard to shorten my sentence." I hear a Peacekeeper on guard snort and whisper something, but ignore him. Not letting him ruin this time.

"I know honey," she whispers. "You're doing your best."

"I really am," I say, trying to dissolve her worries with a smile. "I haven't been called out since we talked last."

"That's good, Baby." She smiles sadly at me. "I'm proud of you." The look in her eyes conveys the same thought she has every time she comes to see me here in this bleak place. _I should be here, not you_. I hate that she thinks that, though. I stand by what I did and don't regret it for a single second.

For all my life, the only person I ever had was my mother, even though she was basically a child having a child, and I was the only person she had. Neither of us have a single clue who my father is, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that, through thick and thin, we still have each other. I was… Beyond devastated when I thought I lost her. I lost the will to do anything. The day she appeared to visit me was the day I got my drive back. I just want to get back to her.

"How are you?" I ask.

"Things are still pretty quiet," she says quietly. "But I'm alright." I know she's lying. We always play this game and it never gets any easier. If anything, it gets tremendously harder as time goes. It keeps getting so much harder to be so close to her and know that I'm not going to go home with her. Home was never much, but it's home. This isn't home. This would _never_ be my home. Even though I've been here for two years, it would never be home.

"Still working on that big ranch?" I ask. Since we were both arrested, she had been trying to find more honest work, which included working as a hand on a ranch that's just far enough away that visiting every week isn't possible. I understand, though. She needs money, and knowing the trouble she could get into, I'd rather her make it honestly.

"Mhm. Scooping horse shit and scrubbing stalls."

"Someday I'll get out of here, Mom. Then you won't have to work anymore."

She smiles at me. "I know you will, Honey. I'll keep waiting for that day."

I couldn't help but smile back. "So, how about that cute farmhand?"

"Engaged," she sighs. "Saw the ring last week."

"Oh. Whoops."

Mom laughs a little bit. "Yeah, whoops. I would ask you but I have a feeling there are no good girls in prison."

I laugh a little bit at that. She has no idea the things I've been up to since getting here. "I've been keeping busy."

"Don't tell your mother that!" she jokes, reaching out and flicking the glass, causing me to flinch a bit and her to laugh some more. "Be careful," she says, quieter and more seriously.

"I know, I will," I say, saluting, "I promise."

"After all, you never know what will come of it," she says, her smile softening as she puts a hand lightly on the glass. I reach out and put his hand on top of hers, wishing I could feel her calloused, rough, warm flesh instead of this cold, linear, thick glass sheet.

"Surprise, I exist," I say teasingly, and she laughs a little bit, but before long I notice her eyes filling with tears. Oh girls and their emotions.

"I might regret that you didn't have a better fatherly influence growing up, but… I don't regret you and your existence a single bit, Baby. You've added so much light and sunshine to my sad, dreary little life, and it… Breaks my heart that you're here. I hope you know that." It's funny that she says I'm light and sunshine considering I live here, the shadows constantly hovering, waiting to overtake me.

"I do," I say quietly. Now's not the time to debate her on that. I just… I don't want her to feel responsible or guilty for me being here. I made the choice. I pulled the trigger. I don't regret my action. I know she can't help it, but at the same time I probably would have ended up here anyways for any number of things.

"Are you nervous for today?" she asks quietly.

I shake my head. "Nah. Just one more to go."

Mom smiles sadly. "Mhm. One more. The a few more years and we'll be home free."

Those words feel so foreign to my ears, on my tongue, so far away. But not totally out of reach. "Home free." Those words are all I need to keep going each day. I yearn for the time when I can feel the sun on my skin again whenever the hell I want, do yoga in the grass, be with my mother and start over. I just have to make sure I keep myself in check.

"Time for your visit is over," a mean-sounding Peacekeeper says, which causes Mom's eyes to fill with fear.

"They're here to get me," I say gently, trying to bring her out of the memories of that day, her time behind bars, and all the shit she's been dragged through. "Just as always. You're alright, I promise."

She bites her lip, then straightens up again. "I love you baby," she whispers, voice quivering slightly.

"I love you too Mom," I said quietly, giving her a sad wave as I stand up and allow the Peacekeepers to escort me back to the cells.

Huh. That was probably the longest we talked without her crying.

.

I'm escorted with the other prisoners to the Town Square. Diaz is lumped together with me because we're the only ones in reaping age, with the others in the back. We're all silent, flanked by guards as Margaret and I are dropped off to check in.

Even though the outfit I was put in is not more than a generic, drab gray dress shirt and khaki pants, I actually feel pretty good. It's nicer than I look on any other day of the year.

The other eighteen-year-old boys don't interact much with me, but I like it that way. I'm not exactly the bubbly extrovert type, after all. Before I know it, the reaping is starting with the mayor reading the Treaty before introducing District Ten's escort, Inspektor Keegan.

The Capitolite man looks just as spunky as ever. He started out in some Games in the forties intending on moving Districts, but then he and Ottile Nevin, the Victor of the Thirty-Fourt Games, fell in love and he stayed in Ten. Part of me wishes that I had a relationship like that, but the other part knows better than to toss my heart into the wind. I have enough on my plate already, thanks.

"Welcome, one and all, to District Ten's reaping for the Sixty-First Hunger Games," he says, his voice gentle. "It's wonderful as always to be here in the District of Sunshine. So, let's begin the reaping with a video."

He shows the video, which nobody pays attention to. My mind starts to wander. After all, I fucking hate the stereotype of the _Sunshine District_. I grew up in the worst part of the District and had never been in the sunshine. And I'm not exactly a sunshine-y person.

I'm brought out of his thoughts by Inspektor announcing, "Now let's select our female tribute."

I don't have anyone to feel nervous for, so I just keep my place and watch. Sure, like everyone else I'm not a monster and hope that it's not a twelve-year-old, but it's not a matter of life or death for me. I mean, I guess I feel nerves for Margaret, but not all that much.

"Inari Fujioka," Inspektor announces.

The crowd murmurs as he announces the name a second time. Soon, a girl steps out of the section for seventeen-year-olds. The first thing I, along with everyone in Panem, notice about her is her hair. Not black, not red, not blonde, no, it's… Teal.

"Damn, wonder how she chalked up the money for that," one of the eighteen-year-olds quips behind me. I can't take my eyes off of her. I mean, um, teal hair is such an oddity in this District. Who wouldn't stare at her? I mean, it complements her face and all, her eyes and shit, but like, it's odd to see. Yeah. It's odd. Hm.

The girl's dark brown eyes are wide as she mounts the stage. She looks like a deer in headlights. I do feel pretty bad for the girl. Hopefully she can buck up and get the District another Victor, though.

"What lovely hair you have!" Inspektor comments. Under the lights, the roots almost look navy.

"Th-Thanks," she stammers. Ouch. It's always hard when tributes react like this. I mean, worse tributes have won before, right? Is this where I make the obligatory reference to the Thirty-Sixth Games?

"And now for the male," Inspektor says. He reaches into the bowl and swirls his hand around before choosing a name. "Kaiser Picasso!" he announces.

I feel eyes on me immediately. Of course people know who I am. I'm sure my mugshot is all around the goddamn District. I can't seem to collect a thought. I'm honestly far too shocked to. But I don't want to be dragged out of the crowd, so I start moving.

 _Not this. Not now._ I was just getting everything figured out, dammit, I was just getting _better_! I have a plan and it doesn't involve _any_ of this! My Mom! What is she to do without me!? I was going to have this all figured out! I had a plan, I was going to cut my sentence short and get back to her! And now I'm here?! About to go into the stupid Hunger Games?! Each step is a new pulse of anger.

Rigged, of course the reaping is rigged, rigged to pick the criminal on his last year, rigged to destroy the little family that wouldn't let the stupid Peacekeepers have their goddamn motherfucking _fun!_ Inspektor gives me a smile, his synthetic dark green eyes looking so goddamn fake and disgusting! I can't control the anger, as soon as I reach his level, I lunge, letting out a scream. I'm caught by Ottile, who'd seen it coming and has to protect her goddamn Capitol pussy husband! I struggle against her, wanting nothing more than to pound his motherfucking head in!

"Get it together," she hisses, which draws me back to earth, the balloon on my wrist stinging as I realize I've made a horrible first impression. Inspektor just awkwardly tells us to shake hands.

Inari timidly puts her hand out, trying to give me a tiny smile. I reach out and squeeze her hand in as tight of a handshake as I can muster. So _this_ is my competition.

I don't really feel that bad for her now. One weaker competitor means one less obstacle to getting back home and winning my freedom.

I can't afford to feel bad anymore.

* * *

 **Goodbyes**

-Serena Merlo, 16, District 8-

 _11:15 A.M._

I've just been reaped. My whole world is crashing down before me. I can't go into the Games! I can't… I can't do anything even close to fighting in an Arena! I d-don't want to be a murderer, I don't want to become hollow like the Victors… District Eight's had a pretty good run recently, and I just know that I'm going to break that record just like last year's tributes and the ones before and I can't do this… How can I possibly take lives?!

I bury my face in my hands, sobbing loudly and not caring who can hear me. I'm hopeless anyways, the whole world might as well hear my lament!

My parents are the first to visit. Even though we've had our ups and downs, I'm actually glad to see them there. I'm glad they came. I hug them tightly, allow them to see me cry. They both wish me luck, they try to tell me I can do it, but I just don't think I can. I try not to argue with them, though. It'll be more comforting for them to think that they gave me some hope, some confidence.

They both tell me they love me, and I return it. Even though we have our ups and downs, I love them both so much, and I'm going to miss them when I'm away. Maybe I shouldn't, but I will anyways. That's just the kind of person I am.

Walker is the next to visit. He's hanging his head when he enters. My heart breaks for the kid. Just when you'd think he has no more emotional energy left, this has to happen. And he has to walk back home with my parents, without me…

I frown, not sure what to do, before he throws his arms around me and hugs me tightly. I hug him back, surprised at the action but not complaining.

"It's going to be alright," I say quietly as he starts to cry, but it's not very convincing when I say it with such a shaky voice.

"It c-can't be…" he sobs quietly, hugging me tightly.

"Whatever happens-" I gasp with another sob at the thought of my brother in danger because I'm not there to watch over him anymore. "You have to be strong!"

"I-"

"You are strong!" I gasp out, trying to keep my crying as quiet as I can. "You're s-so strong, Wa-alker," I say quietly, sniffling and hugging him tightly. "Y-You just have to believe in y-our own strength…"

He doesn't say anything, just keeps hugging me.

"Thank you," he says quietly. "For taking care of me."

"Y-You're going to have to be a li-ttle more careful now," I sniffle, voice quivering. "C-areful for Mom and Dad."

"I know."

We hug for the rest of the time, both of our cries getting slightly quieter as the hysterical sadness starts to fade.

"Pl-ease be safe," I say quietly. "Be strong. I'll be with you. I love you."

He sniffles and wipes his eyes. "I love you too," he says quietly. He gives a small wave before he turns around and leaves the room.

Taya and Tilly come next. They're considerably less energetic than the last time I saw them. They seem to be confident in me, constantly telling me I can do this and telling me they have faith in me.

"You can be… The Straight Tribute," Taya says.

"Oh, that's a boring angle and you know it. Pretty much all of them can play that."

"I dunno, probably not this particular Games…" Taya says.

I sigh but soon they stop bantering and hug me, letting out our last tears before they have to go.

Tiri comes next, crying. We hug for a long time and I try to comfort them. Honestly, though, I just don't know what to say to them. I have no faith that I'll be able to come home, after all. I'm not strong or fast and I have basically no chance. All I can do is hug them and tell them I love them, tell them to be strong, to talk to people, to get help when they need it… That's all I can do.

Vance is the last to visit. Part of me almost wishes he wouldn't have.

"Hey," he says. "Do… You want me to leave?" he asks quietly.

"No," I say quietly, eyes filling with tears again.

"Can I hug you?"

"Y-Yes…" I whimper, hugging him tightly. It's torture, being this close to him, and knowing… Knowing why… We hug for a while, neither of us moving. I try to keep control of my tears, but soon I just can't. The pain that he's going through… And all because…

"Please don't worry about earlier," he says quietly. "It's alright that you don't feel the same."

I can't control it any longer. The guilt is eating me alive! "I do!" I sniffle and wipe at my eyes. "I do feel the same!"

He blinks at me, in shock. "What…?"

"I… I like you too! I just… I can't do this!" I sob into my hands. "It's not your fault! It's mine! It's my fault because my parents will find out!"

"Your…"

"They're transphobic…" His expression changes and I start to worry that I've scared him away. "I-They… They're not that bad…" I have to lie, I'm a liar, but I don't want him to leave, I can't afford him leaving now…

"Oh…" his eyes are so sad, I'm so terrible, I shouldn't have told him, now I feel horrible. "It… It's alright…" He's so hurt, he's so hurt and I'm the one that hurt him, ugh!

"I-If I win, I'll be on my own," I choke out. "Will you wait for me?"

He takes my hands and squeezes them. "Until the end of time," he says quietly, and that makes my heart feel a little bit better. He takes me into his arms again and I sob into his neck. I feel terrible, I'm a horrible person because I'm a coward, a coward that won't date a boy that I like just because of my parents, because I'm too afraid, he must think I'm embarrassed of him or don't want people to know about him… Ugh, why am I so horrible?! Why is he still here?!

"Please come back soon," he says quietly.

I gasp out, sobbing and panicking hysterically. Why is he still here?! I just nod a little bit, barely comprehending the words he's saying.

"You can do it," he says quietly. I sob and resist shaking my head. It already sucks that he has to see me at my worst like this, me crying after admitting the reason I broke his heart. "Please. Don't give up."

"I-I'll try not to!" I gasp out.

"Time to go," the Peacekeeper at the door says.

"Fight hard!" he says, as the Peacekeepers tear us apart.

"B-e strong!" I call after him as he's taken out the door. Tears are still pouring out of my eyes as the guilt fills my chest and stomach. The Peacekeepers push me out the door and I stumble slightly, which causes Stafford to glare at me. I notice both of the mentors looking at me as we walk to the train. Sav's eyes are red but his cheeks are dry, unlike mine.

As soon as I step on the train, I collapse on a couch, grabbing a pillow and sobbing into it.

 _What am I going to do!?_ I gasp and sob, squeezing tears out of my eyes and muffling myself with the pillow, which smells strongly of some flowery Capitol perfume.

 _Oh God._

 _I'm going to die._

-Kaiser Picasso, 18, District 10-

 _12:15 A.M._

I do my best to focus on taking deep breaths as I wait for visitors after the reaping. I royally fucked up, goddammit.

I was reaped. Criminals rarely get reaped after the disaster that was the Fortieth Games, in which Bronx Stringer somehow escaped the Arena despite being a notorious criminal. He got it bad later, when he lost all his friends and was left with nothing, but that fluke was enough to reign back the reaping of criminals for a while.

I sit down as my thoughts clear, leaving a cloud of guilt hanging over me. Now the cameras are on me. I have to prove that I am a better person than I had been when I was arrested. If they don't see that I've changed, they won't hesitate to take me out right then and there. It really is a matter of life and death now.

I stare at my hands. I have to keep it together, just for a week. I have to pick up the pieces and be the nice guy everyone wants me to be. Can I even do that? After all, haven't I been trying for so long to be that guy? I wanted so badly to be nice, in the futile hope that maybe they'd shave some of the extra time I earned off. I always knew it was futile, but I tried anyways.

The other inmates wouldn't be allowed to visit me. As is protocol, they're all on their way back to the prison as I sit there. That's probably a good thing, though. I have no idea what I would have said to them if they would have come. What would I have said to Gunther? I hate the bastard, after all, but at the same time there was this brokenness that radiated off of everything he did. What would I have said to Terzi? Would she have cried if the doors were closed? I have no idea how I would have dealt with _that_. And, of course, mousy little Diaz, and raunchy old Schroder.

The door opens as I'm in thought and I realize that, for the first time, my mother is there, and there is no glass there to separate them. Not anymore. I jump out of my seat, heart pounding, as I run to my mother, who throws her arms around me. It's funny, I forgot how much taller than her I am. It's those little details, the ones I forgot, that I missed the most.

I hug my mother tightly and don't let go. Maybe this isn't all that bad. Neither of us talked, but the room was full of her sobs. I can feel tears prickling at my eyes, but I've gotten good at holding them back.

"Hey, don't cry," I say quietly, still hugging her tightly, clutching her as if someone would rip us apart. I already know what that's like.

"Th-They're happy tears baby…" she sniffles, but I'm not really fooled. We spend forever hugging like that. After all, we have an hour. I'm not about to let her go when I know that nobody else would be standing behind that door. Well, except for maybe Stella, but Stella is nothing compared to my Mom. Here is my home. My inspiration to break free someday.

"Please be safe," she chokes out, more of her pain spilling out into her sobs.

"I will." I let go of her just enough that I can wipe the tears off her cheeks. "Don't worry Mama. Home free is gonna be sooner than either of us thought, okay?"

"You should have-"

"Sh… I don't regret it, okay? Not for a minute." Mom looks away from me, her tears hitting the floor.

"I only did a year a-and I-"

"That's okay, I'm okay. I'm still me, right? I'll be back before you know it." I don't know what else to say. Instead we just kept clutching each other for dear life. Being in her arms for the first time in years is more than comforting. It's home. It's enough for me. Knock on wood, but I could die happy right now.

"Oh, Baby…" she murmurs, her misty eyes studying every detail of my face.

"Don't worry about me."

She laughs through the tears. "I'm always worried about you. I'm your mother."

"Yeah, true."

She sniffles and wipes her eyes as we release each other and sat on the floor. "When you were a baby I would sit on the grass outside our shack and hold you in my arms and just whisper _I'm your mama_ over and over again," she says quietly, sniffling. "It was so crazy to wrap my head around. Like, yeah, I carried you for nine months, and had so much anxiety and punched walls and shit, but… You were here. You were here and we were together and… I made you." She laughs a little bit. "It's still crazy."

"I didn't know you did that," I say quietly, a smile spreading across my face.

"Oh yeah. All the time. It's been _years_ , but I still remember the first time you said Mama. It was absolutely surreal. God, you were the cutest little baby."

That gets me to laugh. I had forgotten how it feels to be in a secure place with someone he trust like this. "Of course I was, _you're_ my mother after all."

Mom laughs at that, her eyes drier now. "You definitely shook everything up when you came into the world," she says quietly.

"And I'll continue to shake it until I get back home to you."

She rubs my shoulder gently, which makes me smile. "Of course."

We spend the rest of the hour like that, catching up, sharing stories, and being together. She gives me the red scarf she'd been wearing around her neck to take in as a token, and I played with it in my fingers the entire hour.

Saying goodbye was borderline impossible. The thought of her being taken away from me again: or, rather, me being taken away from her again: was just unbearable. We held onto each other until the very last possible moment. Mom cooperated, though, to keep me from getting into any more trouble. Once again, I had to stand there with the Peacekeepers and watch her go. I'm used to it, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.

Me and my District partner (what's her name again? Janari? No? Carissa? No, that's not it either… Hm…) are collected by Inspektor, who stays as far from me as possible on the walk to the train. My District partner frowns as we both step up onto the train, followed by the mentors and Inspektor before the train pulls out of the station.

 _Someday_ , I think, as the green trees and blue sky whiz past my window. _Someday I'll come back and I'll never have to leave her again._

 _~.~._

 _ **A/N: Yeah, I wrote all 7,000 words of Kaiser in the wrong tense -_- Also, riting Serena was really hard for me at some places so her parts are all shorter, but oh well. I'm just glad to be done with reapings, haha! Big thanks to Sinfonian Legend and 66samvr for Inari and Sav respectively! Now we can get to the good stuff and start meeting the other tributes! I have many plans for the upcoming chapters! Obviously since I'm in school again my writing speed has gotten much slower, but I still intend to keep this story and Danzón updating as much as possible!**_

 _ **Thanks for all the support and reviews so far! I'm really loving to hear your thoughts and predictions!**_

 _ **Also, random question you won't get points for answering but I want to know: would you guys like if I made a story blog for this with the tributes listed with aesthetic pictures and stuff like I have for my other stories? Or do you think I should just keep all my partial stuff on Tumblr like I have in the past? This is the first partial where there are a lot of people actively involved (woo hoo! :D) so I'm tempted to do a blogspot, but to do it I'd want to know it would be worth it!**_

 _ **Chapter Question: Which is/are your favorite(s) of the eight POV characters and why? Which District partner(s) are the most interesting to you and why?**_

 _ **Thanks for the support and goodwill, can't wait to see you all next chapter for Train Rides!**_


	6. Game Faces On

**Train Rides**

-Job Markov, 17, District 3-

It sinks in when I glance out the window and see expanses of green whizzing past.

I had been sitting and staring at the wall for who knows how long. It wasn't that I was meditating or even praying… Ha, praying. As if I _could_ pray. As if I could collect some thought out of this frenzied mind to spare for the God that threw me in this place, this horrible place.

I can pretend as much as I want that I'm some saint. I can pretend as much as I want that I'm going to die and that's okay, that it's for a purpose, that I'm at peace with it. I can pretend that as much as I want. I can pretend as much as I want that I'll just go in that Arena, never touch a weapon, and sacrifice myself for someone worthier. I can pretend as much as I want that I'll be struck down easily, without a fight.

But that doesn't mean I actually believe it. That doesn't mean my cheeks aren't coated in a layer of tears, the silent tears that escape the eyes and slide down the cheeks, the kinds of tears that, if not for the drop of water, nobody would notice more than just the sparkle on the cheek. I've been sitting in the same spot ever since we left, and I haven't moved. That's one thing I can think enough to do. One boundary I can draw. One thing I can control. If I want to sit here, and shake, and cry silent tears, and swallow the aching lump in the throat, and hug my knees, and think nothing except for _What the hell am I going to do?_ then dammit, that's something they can't take away from me.

Even when Gio and Wiress try to move me, it doesn't work. I don't let them. I don't want to be moved. I don't want them to take me. I don't want to do anything but sit here and cry and stare at the wall and feel broken and angry, oh man am I angry.

I thought things were getting better. I thought I had seen the worst of it. I thought I'd beat the beast and now I could just be left alone. I thought I could somehow try to be happy again, somehow comfortable in my own skin again. I thought that I would be able to use my experience to reach out to others that might need help to get out of it themselves. Dammit, I thought I'd finally found my calling. The place where I belonged. I thought that I would live in the orphanage and work for Mr. Hauser and take care of Ether and the other orphans and sing with them and… I don't know, but I thought for sure I knew where I belonged.

Ha. So much for that. So much for spreading the Word through the orphans. You'd think that I had enough experiences to reach a whole world of people. You'd think that I could have had peace, I could have had a break from this feeling, from this feeling that I couldn't keep going, this fear of pain, emotional pain, physical pain… You'd think that I would have been able to breathe. You thought that I could have had at least a year of freedom from the abuse on all fronts before I was thrown into another situation like this. But of course not.

Faith is a funny thing. Sometimes it embraces you, and you have it all. Sometimes you look at the world and see every little thing, every blade of grass, every brick of the giant factories, every person you walk past on the street, and admire it as God's creation. And then, not even days later, you're left wondering why you believe, why you buy into these stories just because someone said they were true thousands of years ago. Why would you risk your life for some storybook that you don't know is true? Prophets don't exist. Bushes don't just burn. God doesn't show himself in the clouds. Jesus isn't wandering around and preaching anymore. What's to say this isn't all just some delusion? Doubt is cold and dark and creeps up on you and when life knocks you down, it's right there with you.

Why would a God that loves his children leave them in a dark room, trying to figure out how to get to the knife drawer without creaking the floor? Why would a God that cares for his children send people in the world that would abuse them and insult them and hurt them? Why would a God that loves his children surround them by people that hate everything they are? Those are all very easy questions to ask, but they're not easy questions to answer.

Why would a God that loves his children put people in power that force them to become murderers?

I don't know. I can pretend there's some reason, some all-important reason why bad things, horrible things, monstrous things happen in this world, a reason why God _allows_ these things to happen, but in the end, I just don't know. I can't imagine. But in a skeptical world, I have to pretend like I do. Otherwise the cause will be lost before it even begins.

I sit there and stare at the wall like that for a long time. I don't even look up until I see movement again. I'm ready to fight Gio and Wiress again. They need to learn from Landon, who just gave up and stopped trying to talk to me. I don't want to talk. I don't want to be here, I want to be back at the orphanage. _What the fuck kind of God would put me through so much suffering and pain?! What kind of God would take one of the few people brave enough to serve him and put them here?!_

The movement isn't either of the mentors, though. It's Heiko. Well, I don't want to talk to him, either. I don't want to talk to anyone. Maybe the thought that I don't deserve this is selfish, but I can't help it. I've spent too long losing myself. If I have to be selfish to keep from losing my identity… I… I shouldn't… This is a battle I can't fight. Not here, not now.

"We meet again."

I pull my knees up so I can bury my face in them and not look at him. I refuse to look at him with tears in my eyes. I refuse for him to see me breaking. Last time I trusted anyone that much, I was forced to eat it later. I want myself back. I want my secrets back. I want my identity back. I thought I'd been getting it back, too. I really did.

He seems to notice I don't want to talk, so he says nothing else. But he doesn't leave. I notice that much. Maybe I should be hospitable to him, after all, he's in the same shithole as me. But I can't help resenting him. Just a little bit. After all, he's been able to keep composed. Unlike me, who's been sent into a frenzy so bad I can't even do the things that give me solace in this fucked up, stupid world of violence and threats and power-hungry bastards and poverty and hunger and sin. He stares at the wall, just like I've been doing for who cares how long.

"Heiko?" comes the timid voice of Wiress from the other side of the car.

"Let them be Wi," Gio whispers quietly. "They're like Juli, they just need some time. Right Juli?"

Beside me, Heiko takes a deep breath. I think I know why. He probably knows what a sad train this is. A District partner that can't control himself, a mentor that is over forty years old and still talks to the ghosts of children, another mentor that always speaks timidly and mutters to herself all the time, and an escort that seems to have deflated all the energy in him at the reaping like a balloon. He has to be smart enough to know that this isn't going to be smooth sailing.

"You gonna be alright?"

I glance up at him with one eye, mind racing. Why does he need to know? Why does he care? What does it matter to him? His eyes don't look warm. They don't look cold either. I know what cold looks like. Cold looks like the teary eyes that blame you for all the sadness they've ever felt. Cold looks like the judgmental stares of adults that think they know everything. I know cold. His eyes aren't cold. But they're not warm either. I don't know what to make of that.

 _Very green, though. Actually, really green. Shit, Job, answer the question and stop being gay would you… Uh…_

"Of course." It comes out smoothly, much to my surprise. Every day I'm amazed by the strength of humans. "Aren't I always?"

That earns a very hesitant, very gruff little chuckle from him. "Aren't we all?"

"Are you sure we shouldn't start strategizing?" Wiress asks again, still just as timidly.

"It's alright," Gio says, "Here, take some food. Let them approach us."

"They talk like we can't hear them," Heiko says quietly. I just sigh and shrug a bit in response.

The truth is that the anxiety in Wiress's voice is also making me anxious too. Anxious to start the process right here and now. I have a feeling that this is going to be a constant thing.

"I think we'll be okay to wait for it," Heiko says. "I basically know what needs done. Don't you?"

"Yes." It comes out quiet and tiny and broken, but it comes out. (Hey, kind of like me. Ha.)

"Hm."

We sit in silence.

"Have you tried the food?"

"No."

"You should. It's good. A once-in-a-lifetime thing, you know?"

"Not if you win."

"Right, not if you win," he repeats quietly.

The conversation's reached a bit of a low point. It's only a _little_ bit tense. Just a _wee_ bit. Both of us silently stare at the wall, not even looking at each other. The only part of him I acknowledge is seeing the motion of his breathing out of the corner of my eye. And even that I try to ignore.

After a while of just sitting there doing nothing, my mind racing, trying to figure out what the hell, I'm going to do, Heiko stands up, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"I'm going to go meet our mentors," he says. He gives me a look I don't recognize for a second, and I just try to hold contact so he can't look down on me. As a poor orphaned bigender, bisexual Christian, I'm pretty used to being looked down on. But I can't afford to be looked down on here. That would do nothing but show the world that I'm weak. And I _refuse to be weak_. In my staring him down, I barely notice the hand he's stuck down to me. Maybe to help me up.

I don't accept his help. As much as I want to, I know that now is not the time for that, here is not the place. I stand up by myself, maintaining the fiercest eye contact I can before turning around and heading towards the mentors. I hear him breathe out a puff of air, like a laugh he's trying to disguise.

 _So much for playing it tough,_ I think, as I plop down on the couch across from Gio and Wiress.

"Hi there," Gio says, smiling slightly. "Nice to see you."

"How far from the Capitol are we?" Heiko asks. The question makes my stomach flip in circles. I never thought I would have to hear that question in my life. I never thought I would have to know the answer. I… I never…

"About fifteen minutes," Wiress says, before muttering words to herself that I can't understand.

"But that should be plenty of time if you guys want to eat and then introduce yourselves…" Gio adds.

"I'm not hungry," I grunt. Heiko does get up to grab some food. While he's gone, I can feel the glances of the mentors on me. I don't want them looking at me. Not when I'm like this. Not when I'm hurt like this. I wish I could just swallow the emotions and hide the pain. But ever since everything happened, I've stopped believing in hiding. I never thought I would have to.

"So, your name is…"

"Job," I say. "Yes. That's my name. Job Markov."

"That's a nice name." Gio's talking to me like I'm a baby. That's probably how I'm acting right now. "I'm Gio, and this is Wiress. We're here to help you."

"I know why you're here," I say, pulling my knees to my chest as Heiko sits on the other side of the couch I'm on. "I know why I'm here, and he's here, and why everyone's here! To die!"

"W-We're going to try our best…" Wiress stutters out in her tiny little voice.

"We always try our best!" Gio says. I don't know if he's trying to be encouraging or what, but it's not working very well. It's not exactly a comforting thing to hear said so cheerfully, especially with our track record. "I have a lot of good resources, right Atty?"

Wiress bites her lip nervously, and Heiko lets out a small sigh. Landon is still sitting in the same position, the same defeated look on his face.

"So, I think the question we should ask is whether or not you two want to be mentored together," Gio says, before adding, "Good point Tuesday."

The room goes dead silent. I don't want to be the first to say something. If our answers aren't the same, that's going to be awkward. But at the same time…

"There… are pros and cons," Wiress stutters out quietly. "If you are mentored together, you might… Lose someone that hurts you very much." Her eyes go over to Gio, who twiddles his fingers quietly.

"You had two allies, didn't you?" Heiko asks.

"That's right. And there was a period of time when I worked in an even bigger group with my District partner and her allies." He smiles, but his eyes are glazed like he's dead. "I'm so sorry Dawn," he whispers.

"But, there are pros too," Wiress continues. "F-For one, you'll have four minds, which is better than two. Plus, a lot of outer District tributes partner up by District because it's always good to have someone watching your back when you're not Careers. Plus, I feel like the two of us work well to-together, right Gio?"

Gio nods. "That's right. If you two work together, the chance we get a Victor will sky-rocket. Especially because it seems like you guys are even in terms of age and drive."

I swallow an uncomfortable lump in my throat. When am I going to tell my mentors that I'm going to die? I… I don't want to, but… I can't hurt people… That's everything I stand against in faith… But at the same time…

"What if we don't work together?" Heiko asks. A well of conflicting emotions pushes at my throat.

"Well, you won't get attached to anyone, for one. U-Unless you have an ally from another District," Wiress says quietly.

"But you're much more vulnerable. And when you work with tributes from other Districts you really never get to talk to their mentors."

There's a brief pause, and I feel Heiko's eyes on me. Is he waiting for me to say something? Or is he still thinking about it? I don't know what to say. I don't know how I feel.

Finally, he speaks. "I was going to look for allies. But I don't want to pull dead weight."

"I th-think you guys are well-matched," Wiress stammers.

Gio nods and gives a slight laugh before saying, "I agree Empress!"

I can tell the direction they're trying to pull us towards, but I'm not sure if I like it or not. There's a long period of silence in which I wonder if I should just say something, say that I'm going to be dead weight that dies without a fight, I wonder if I should just tell them. But something in me can't spit out the words. I sit and don't say anything. I don't want to be seen as weak. I don't want to be counted out yet, even if I should be. I still don't know what I'm going to do.

"I… Don't know if I can give a definite answer yet." I feel like that's all I'm able to say about most things right now. After all, the last time I trusted someone I ate dirt over it. Not exactly an attractive option here.

"I agree," Heiko says, giving me another look I just can't read.

"Okay, then how about we mentor the two of you together for chariots and then you can decide if you want to continue after sizing up your com-petition?" Wiress suggests.

"Sounds good to me," Heiko says, and all eyes are on me.

I give a slight, weak nod. "I agree."

~.~.

-Ott Travers, 15, District 4-

I try to stay positive on the ride. I wipe my tears and try to put the smile back on.

Garrett is quiet, tapping his feet and eating some food he grabbed from the buffet as soon as we got on the train. I watch him quietly. He never looks up from his plate.

"I ran into you before the reaping," I say quietly, trying to start conversation. I like to talk to people. It usually distracts me from the negative feelings. I hope that maybe I can talk to him and it'll calm me down a little bit. But he doesn't respond. He doesn't even look up. He shifts his sitting position, still not even looking at me.

"I don't know if you remember me. It was in front of… The beach shop? No, the market. No, um… Alright, I can't remember. But I ran straight into you." I give a small laugh. He doesn't even smile. "You were with a girl. Was she your girlfriend?" No response. Not even a look up. "I bet she's going to miss you. What's her name?"

"None of your business," he says, clenching and unclenching his fists. So much for being friendly. The emotions start to pour out of me, so I quickly get up and walk away, towards one of the seats facing out the window.

I watch the trees go by and try not to cry. _I can't cry. I can't cry. I can't cry._

Not too long after, Evianna enters the room and starts talking to Garrett. It doesn't take too long for him to warm right up, sounding especially cheerful. This is his time. This is his moment. He's going to win and I don't even stand a chance.

I don't want to do anything but sit here, watch the trees go by, and brood. I can't help but feel angry that nobody's talking to me. Why would Evianna waste her time on the kid that doesn't even stand a chance, right? Why would she care about the tribute she picked out of the bowl when the dashing volunteer, the one with chiseled features and a dashing smile, the one with washboard abs and a deep, resonant voice, is sitting right in front of her, waiting to win the Games?

I don't pay attention to their words. I don't care what he has to say. I don't care what anyone has to say. I just want to be left alone. But at the same time, I want someone to come make sure I'm alright so I can send them away. I have a feeling it's going to be off balance this entire process. It would take a miracle for me to win, after all. I always used to believe in miracles. But now I'm not so sure.

"And you," I hear, spoken louder than the hushed words Evianna had previously been saying. "What was your name again… Ott?" I give a quick glance over my shoulder but then go back to staring out the window.

"That's my damn name," I mutter, hugging my knees closer to my chest.

"Have you trained?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, good!" she says, clapping her hands. I scowl. Now I wish I had said no, just so that she could hate me and I could be done with her. "Maybe you two can work together then!"

I look back again, but only to see Garrett's response. My District partner doesn't even look at me. "Actually, I was going to try to join the Career alliance," he says.

"You could always take Ott with y-"

"No," he interrupts, bouncing his legs and still not looking up at me.

Evianna remains calm, though, "Just because Ott is fifteen doesn't mean-"

"It's not a good idea." I don't think I really appreciate the harshness of his tone.

"I didn't want to join the stupid Careers anyways," I say bitterly, surpassing the ice in his tone. "Killing for sport isn't exactly my cup of tea."

"But it is how you win," he breathes, which makes me simmer even more.

I turn around just to stare him down. He doesn't look up from his feet, which tap quickly on the ground. "Maybe I don't think killing people is worth hollow fame and glory," I spit. Maybe I shouldn't pick a fight with him. But he pushed me first.

"You know nothing about me," he says coldly.

"No, I don't, because you didn't want to tell me. I'm sure you'll tell _her_ , though."

"He told me some things, but I'm sure-"

"I don't have to tell you anything," he says. Evianna looks slightly annoyed that he keeps interrupting her, but that makes me feel some twisted sense of satisfaction.

"Look man, I don't know why you hate me-" I stop mid-sentence when I realize why. The last time I was saying this, I realized why far, _far_ too late. I can't even make myself finish that sentence. As fast as I can, I get up to my feet and dash out of the car, leaving Garrett and Evianna to have their gleeful little conversation and talk about that freak who was reaped for the girl's spot. Tears fill my eyes, but I refuse to let anyone have the satisfaction of seeing me cry them. That's something I'm not willing to give them.

I collapse across the couch of the back car, which is surrounded by windows. I stare up at the ceiling and try to keep the tears from blurring my eyes. The sky is blue and the clouds whiz by and I just try to focus on anything, anything but the memories I hold from yesterday, anything but my aunt's words, anything but the looks on people's faces when I stepped out from the section for girls dressed like this, the confusion and judgement in their eyes. It's hard to not think of those kinds of things, though. Especially knowing the reason your District partner won't look you in the eyes.

He seemed so nice before the reaping when I ran into him. Maybe he thought I was cis back then. And now that he knows, now that I can't pass anymore, maybe now that's why. Maybe he's just not comfortable with there being two boys from District Four this year. Just like the rest of them. Just like the rest of the rotten people that make my life hell. Fine, then, just try to pretend I don't exist! Just like everyone else, you're not special you bastard!

I reach up and wipe my eyes, trying to push the tears back into them, as if that'll work. As if I can just reabsorb the tears and sadness and never let it out. If only it were that easy. If only I wasn't at the bottom of the totem pole. If only.

Out of the corner of my eye I notice a tall, looming figure and almost fall off the couch in surprise. I hear a deep, hesitant chuckle and look at the figure in the doorway with scrutinizing eyes.

"Sorry to scare you," he says, his expression darkening when he notices the stray tear that trails its way down my cheek. "My name is Lewis. I'm going to be your mentor." Like I don't know who he is. He won the 55th Games, after all, and is one of District Four's younger Victors at twenty-two.

"Ott," I mutter.

"Nice to meet you Ott. That's a… Very, um, interesting name."

"I chose it myself."

Lewis looks confused for a second, and my patience goes down to zero. "I'm a fucking man."

"You- oh, of course!" He says, "Stupid Lewis, should've guessed. I just… Didn't want to assume."

I do everything to keep from rolling my eyes.

"So, um, this didn't get off to all that great a start."

"Not really."

"That's, um, my bad. Sorry 'bout that. Should I just, um, start over?"

"No," I say, sitting up and crossing my arms. "Just tell me I don't have a chance and let's get it over with."

"That's not what I came here to do…"

"Evianna already implied it when she decided to become Garrett's best buddy," I say, crossing my arms.

"Evianna is a wise woman, but she can only handle one tribute at a time. I'm sure she'll be interested in learning your story."

"I'm sure she won't when she realizes I can't do jack-shit."

"She said you trained."

"That means nothing."

"You were never serious about it, were you?"

"Never."

"District Four has had volunteers that were worse-off than you."

I'm about to ask who, but I'm too done with this shit for another Thirty-Six mention.

"That doesn't matter. I get it, I don't have a chance because I was reaped and I'm a freak of nature and yadda yadda yadda." I reach up to wipe my eyes angrily.

"If you believe that, you're never going to win," Lewis says calmly.

"How can I not believe it?!" I ask irritably. "How can I not believe it when everyone else does?!"

"Who else does?" he asks, his head tilted in confusion.

"Evianna! _Garrett!"_

"I don't think either of those assumptions is true."

"I have enough evidence to rest my case," I say, crossing my arms. Even though I'm full of emotions, I think that Lewis's calm energy is helping, so I don't kick him out. I think he just wants to help.

"Even if they do think those things, that doesn't make them true. Sometimes what's popular isn't right."

"I know," I say, sniffling a bit. "My Dad always says that. I know it's true."

"Then you know what's right, Ott. Don't you?"

I swallow tears and nod a bit.

"Then it doesn't matter what they think. What matters is what you think."

"But killing people isn't right," I sniffle. "I _know_ that's a fact."

"I know," Lewis says quietly. "I got out with only two kills." I can't help but cringe. Two is still a lot. Two is still too many. Two is still too many to be saying _only_.

"Two is still too many."

"You could find an ally to help you." I nod a little bit.

"Evianna mentioned the Careers."

"No. I'm not joining with them. Like they'd even _let_ me."

"There are still plenty of good options out there, I'm sure of it. You'll know for sure when you watch the recaps later tonight."

I give a silent nod, but that doesn't change the fact that I know I won't be able to kill in the Arena.

"It's easier than it seems when you're in the heat," Lewis says, and I immediately draw back.

"That's not reassuring."

"Sometimes you do what you have to. I'm sure you're no stranger to that, are you?"

I cross my arms and look away from him. "No. I'm not."

"Same concept."

"No. It's not. Doing what I had to do never hurt anyone but _myself_. And I could take that. But I _can't. Hurt. People._ "

Lewis's green eyes look at me sadly. I scowl over at him. I know he's only trying to help, but I can't help but feel angry right now. "You'll see when you get there."

"I sure hope I don't."

"If you want to get back home, you will."

I don't respond. I know he's right. I know that he's right and that I'll probably hate the person I'm going to have to become. I never thought I would think that way. I never thought I would end up hating myself. I never saw this future for myself. I never saw myself here.

"I think it's probably a good thing that you and Garrett are keeping distance," Lewis says.

"I don't. I don't think it's a good thing that he hates me just because of who I am."

"That'll make it easier when it gets down to it, though."

I bite my lip. "I'm not entirely sure that's true." I think back of Hammerhead visiting me after the reaping, and the things he said. Even a person who spent our whole lives being an adversary of mine still couldn't stand the thought of actually seeing me dead. The thought of Garrett bleeding out and dying isn't exactly an attractive one.

"Your loyalties will show for what they are in the Games."

"Again, not too reassuring."

We sit in silence for a while. I wrap a hand around my necklace and hold it, trying to get some sense of familiarity from it. Some kind of peace. But all it does is remind me just how far away I am.

"There… There's something else I should probably warn you about," Lewis says, biting his lip. I don't like the look in his eyes, I don't like it one bit. I don't like the tone of his voice.

"We've been in contact with your prep team, and... I don't know if they're going to budge on the outfits they've prepared for you?"

My heart drops to the pit of my stomach. "No."

"I'm sorry Ott. We're going to try really hard, though."

"I'm going to fight them." I stare him straight in the eyes to make sure he knows that I'm totally serious about it.

"You..." Lewis swallows hard. "Let us handle this first, okay? I think that Romy will be able to convince them."

"If she's not all over Garrett," I mutter.

"She's going to watch over you too, like I'm going to look out for Garrett. Luckily, the chariot outfits are the same between both of you, and they're gender neutral."

"Oh, good."

Lewis snorts a little bit. "I doubt you're going to say that when you see them."

"Wh… What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, glancing up at him. Seeing his little smirkish smile makes me smile a little bit.

"Oh, they're bad this year," he says, unable to contain his laughter. "They're _so bad_."

"Am I allowed to know yet?" I ask, laughing a bit at his reaction.

"No, but it's going to be _fishy_ ," he says, and that causes me to laugh.

"How much? Are we going to be giant fish?"

"Oh, if only!" he laughs. "You're gonna wish you were."

"Now I'm even more curious! How much worse can you get than giant fish?!"

"Oh, you'll see. And I'll be sure that we take _lots of pictures_."

"Nooooo!" I say, both of us pausing to laugh.

"Gotta have some blackmail on you, that way when you're a Victor I'll always have plenty of blackmail." He gives a shit-eating grin that makes me laugh harder and smile wider.

"Oh, be careful how many fighting words you use, I'll make sure to sneak some pictures of you sleeping and drooling!"

"I do not drool!" he laughs.

"I will get evidence!" I yell, laughing.

"I'll have to sleep with one eye open then," he says, grinning. "Or set a booby trap in my doorway. Getcha a pie in the face or a bucket of water to the head."

"Oh, I know all about pranks. You can't outdo me."

"Don't you dare challenge me kid!" he says, grinning.

Just then, I notice Romy in the doorway, Garrett and Evianna standing behind her. Garrett smiles sadly when I look at him, but when I blink he's back to staring at the ground and not looking at me.

"This is the caboose," Romy says. "Nice room to reflect and relax in. And, there you go, the whole train."

"Cool," Garrett says quietly, and he leaves quickly. I sigh, wishing that didn't just happen to spoil my mood.

"I'm going to get so much blackmail on you," Lewis says. "Even more than Romy has on me."

"I'll have to ask her then," I say, laughing and trying to keep the mood, trying to pretend that the atmosphere didn't change.

"And I'll have to make sure I collect the goods on her to counter-blackmail the blackmail."

I laugh a little bit. "First I have to win though."

"I know. I know you can, Ott. You're not doomed."

I smile a little bit at that. I'm not so sure how much I believe it, but now I can at least remember to have a little bit of faith. "I'm going to try my best."

"And I'll be there every step of the way."

"Thanks," I say, smiling.

We go quiet, both of us looking out the window and looking at the foliage fly past. My mind starts to wander again, but this time to happier thoughts.

 _Ott the Victor_ , I think, sighing a bit and smiling. _I could get used to that._

~.~.

 _ **A/N: Here's our first chapter of train rides! So, because I don't have as much writing time to split between projects, I'm only doing four pre-chariot chapters instead of all the train rides, but don't worry because all 8 tributes will get a pre-Games POV and all District partners and other tributes will get their share of screen time!**_

 _ **Also, I just finished the Tribute intro part of the blog for this story! The story blog is tin-toy-robots . blogspot . com if you didn't know!**_

 _ **So, that being said, how did you like our first train rides? I hope you liked getting a better picture of the District partners!**_

 _ **Chapter Question: Do you think Job and Heiko are going to stick together? Why is Garrett ignoring Ott (Lauren I bet you know why so no spoilers, lol.)?**_

 _ **Hope you all enjoyed this chapter and I hope you're looking forward to watch recaps with Neapolitan and have a cool hat dance party with Turtle!**_


	7. Ups and Downs

**Capitol Arrival**

-Neapolitan Hightower, 18, District 1-

The Capitol complex is just as spectacular as I imagined it would be, honestly. The rooms are huge and the projection is crystal clear. I like to think I lived a relatively modest life back home, and this extravagant building is bigger than anything I've ever seen in my life.

Well, except for Special's house, maybe. Just maybe.

I can't help the curiosity, though. I immediately want to explore, see every inch of the quarters we'll be living in for the next few weeks. Maybe the excitement is childish, but I just can't care about childish. As soon as we exit the elevator, I run to my ginormous room and jump on the bed. I made it! I made it to the Hunger Games! This is every dream I've ever had come true!

I run to the closet, which is probably bigger than my bedroom back home. I immediately start flipping through clothes, my mind flying ahead of my hands trying to plan out my outfits for the coming days. With all the choices, maybe I should plan an outfit for each meal, maybe one for each hour.

Being from District One is the best because we get to dick around in our compartments as the other tributes get their slow asses here. Recaps happen after lunch, and as soon as they're over we'll all be sent to meet our stylists before the chariot rides happen tonight. I enjoy every minute I get to flip through the clothes. Soon, I'm stripping my tie and shirt and replacing them with a sweater and slacks. No, looks too fancy, let's see what else is here.

I try on cargo shorts, three different blazers, and a few more tops. Then, my eye is caught by a rack that I'm surprised is even in here.

"Neapolitan! They're going to show the recap soon!" Bautista's voice calls. The man has the weirdest accent I've ever heard. Even seeing him on some Capitol programs doesn't make me any less jarred when I heard his strange accent.

"Already!?"

"Well you must eat lunch first!" he says, huffing.

"Oh, right." I sigh, disappointed that my little fashion show is going to be cut short. I decide to wear an off-the-shoulder shirt and a skirt with cherries on it. I'm pulling on a pair of knee-high socks when I hear the disgruntled voice of my mentor.

"Lunch is up, man," Master calls. "You coming!?"

I pull up the right sock and quickly jog out of the closet to meet him. "Yeah, I'm right here."

Last year's Victor covers his mouth to cough as he turns around and power-walks out of the room, towards the table. I snigger a little bit to myself as I follow him cheerfully. In case you didn't notice, I like to make people look twice.

"Well, look who decided to show up," Bautista says, smile unwavering. "Took you long enough."

"Oh, cute!" Whimsy says cheerfully. The 42nd Victor gives me a wide smile.

"Why thank you," I say, doing a twirl before I take a seat at the table. Zuli, my District partner, barely looks up from her food. I'm sure she's worried about chariots. I mean, have you seen her? She's not exactly the prettiest girl of the bunch, especially in the District of pretty people.

Something makes me think that the mentors would be better if we switched. Master isn't exactly a sunny kind of guy. Never was, never will be. I don't think it helps that I totally beat him in a spar the day before the reaping. He was pretty mad about that I think.

Everyone figured that Master Nicosia was another pretty District One boy, though he wasn't cocky or even talkative at all. But that guy has a brain. And the cogs are always moving. That was how he won. Nobody thought that he would outsmart his opponents, but that was exactly what he did. I respect him for that.

Whimsy, on the other hand, won from nothing but dumb luck. In an Arena of angsty teens, she was just in the right place at the right time. And she wasn't involved with the crazy one. He self-destructed before she had to worry about him. She was really just driven by revenge. And it served her well. Man, I could write a whole story about it. If only I had the time and the emotional capacity to do so.

We have a nice lunch. Master and Zuli really don't talk, but Whimsy chats the whole time. I smile and contribute when possible. I think it soon becomes evident to everyone that we should probably switch it up. I mean, I'm sure we'll get a lot of time as a fierce foursome, because Zuli has vocalized that she intends on joining the Careers. I'm not sure why that was surprising. I guess that if there were to be a District 1 girl gone rogue, it would probably be Zuli.

"Let's hurry up, they're starting!" Bautista calls, and the rest of us hurry to crowd around the crystal-clear projection being shown on the wall. I slip into an armchair and the mentors sit on the couch. Zuli seems to ponder where to sit, so I pat my lap.

"This spot's open," I say teasingly, bouncing my eyebrows. Zuli doesn't look amused, sitting on the floor.

"I know what you do," she says. "Even if I _liked_ men, you'd still be the bottom of the list."

I could either laugh or be offended at that. So, for Zuli's sake, I just choose to laugh. It makes sense that she would know my little antics, I'm sure she's been studying me like one of her books for the past few weeks. I'm sure she's the kind of person that just has to know everything. All those bookworms are the same, after all.

"Welcome, one and all to the recap for the reapings for the 61st Hunger Games!" calls Caesar Flickerman's voice, and I try to flip the switch to serious Neapolitan mode. This is my competition, after all. Any of these 23 people could possibly steal me away from my parents and siblings and friends. And partners.

The recap begins in the beautiful District One.

Zuli is the first tribute to volunteer. She looks just as drab as I remember her being that morning. Boring.

Then, the Victor volunteers. I look pretty relaxed as I'm walking up to the stage, grinning and walking with confidence.

"Well?" I glance over at the dull voice of Master. "Aren't you writing this down?"

"That old outdated Career thing? It'll be fine. I'll remember everything up here in my good ol' noggin," I say, winking and tapping my temples.

" _I'm_ taking notes," Zuli says, so quietly I could barely hear it.

"Well, hurray for you," I say, rolling my eyes. "I'm just going to keep it up in my head."

"We'll see how that works out," she breathes, probably as an aside, so I don't respond. Besides, because of her I missed everything Caesar and Claudius said about District One's amazing male tribute!

"Pay attention now," Whimsy says. "Two tributes will easily snatch your chance."

Zuli nods dutifully, flipping the page of her tablet, and I lounge out as the reaping for District Two begins.

The girl volunteers from the section for eighteen-year-olds, which is to be expected. What _isn't_ expected is her outfit. Master snorts, while Whimsy doesn't even try to keep from howling with laughter. Zuli gives me a look, and I exchange it. Is it possible that we'll bond over the other nutjob Careers?

The girl, or should I say, abominable snowman, struts up to the stage like she's the Queen of the world. Heh, more like the queen of bad fashion choices. Man, and I thought _Zuli_ was bad.

The girl's name is Lori. I don't bother to memorize her last name, because in the Games, those really don't matter at all. First names barely matter.

The escort, like most of us, has no idea what to say. He just quickly moves on to the males. A boy is drawn, but, as expected, he is soon volunteered for. This year is another one of those delicious years in which more than one boy is vying for the spot. The first boy is a dark-haired boy with grotesque, red, peeling burns on his face. The second is one of the prettiest boys I've ever seen. _Goddamn_.

Pretty boy doesn't hesitate to smack burn boy in the face and take his rightful place on stage. He's a tall guy with tan skin, dark brown hair, and a white smile, which he's showing off proudly to the crowd. Tucked behind his ears are two golden wings that look homemade. Probably a gift from some sap that really likes him. His name is a whopping five syllables long, just like mine. Nebuchadnezzar.

"Good luck spelling that one, sis," I say, smirking, as the District partners shake hands on the screen. Zuli is so focused she doesn't respond to me.

The next pair is from District Three. This would surely be a much duller reaping.

"It's still important to pay attention to the tributes that are reaped," Master says, as if reading my mind.

"Yeah yeah," I sigh. "I am." Zuli nods.

The boy is reaped first. His name is Heiko. He steps out from the eighteen section. He looks like a good guy. In more ways than one, haha. He has short blond hair and green eyes, with a face that is very inviting. His gentle presence is conflicted with a strong atmosphere, highlighted by tattoos on his arms and some scars. The way he carries himself, revealing tough anger, makes me wary of him.

"Watch out for that one," Whimsy murmurs. Bautista gives her a brief look before turning back to the television for the weird-looking escort to choose the next name.

The next tribute to step out is wearing a dress shirt and slacks and looks pretty androgynous. Might explain the name Job. Job has curly black hair and soft blue eyes. Even though they're seventeen, they don't look like a huge threat. They keep on a brave face as they mount the stairs, one at a time. A girl in the crowd starts crying out their name, but Job doesn't turn around to face them.

When Landon asks for volunteers, a couple other kids in the crowd start screaming and crying. Master grunts in annoyance, but Whimsy just looks sad.

"Reapings like this are so common," she says quietly. Bautista lets out a sigh.

Another voice adds to the choir of misery as the tributes shake hands, and Job lets out a loud sob in front of the whole nation, causing me to bite back a laugh. _Damn, kid, you were so close. That sucks!_ Job's cheeks flush in humiliation as the tributes are escorted back into the Justice Building and they try to hide that they were quivering with tears. Heiko didn't even break.

Well, that helps my chances. One tribute so far that's dead meat for sure.

Next is the other important District for us, District Four.

"Let's see what washed up from the ocean District," I say, grinning proudly. I've been waiting to use that one.

The male is reaped first in this District as well. I smile in anticipation as the male is reaped. A good-looking boy steps out from the sixteens section, and but soon a voice booms those sweet, magic words that prove that District Four isn't a total bust. "I volunteer!"

Garrett, the volunteer, has tan skin and wavy, dark hair. His dimples are evident as he struts up to the stage. He is a dashing guy that obviously has a lot of confidence and a lot of determination as well. He's going to be another one to look out for. Well, even if the girls are drab and crazy, at least our Career guys will make a good power trio.

The female tribute is drawn next. The reaped tribute is a young-looking kid that can't possibly be cis that steps out from the fifteens section. The kid walks to the stage, smiling so widely and waving so happily to the crowd that I'm sure there's going to be a volunteer for them. But a volunteer for Ott never comes.

Man, we're low on girls this year. Not that it matters. I can charm anyone, regardless of gender.

"So, we'll only be using one of those tributes," Zuli observes.

"Reaped tributes can be Career material, though," Master grunts.

"I've seen many a strong reaped tribute from Four," Whimsy hums.

"We'll put a question mark," I say.

"Take your own notes," Zuli says, and I wink and tap my temple again. "Oh, I am."

The next District is Five, and my attention goes from one-hundred percent to about fifty.

The District Five reaping starts out normal. The boy is reaped, a fourteen-year-old that plasters a smile on his shocked little face. His name is Ezreal. I don't know how long I'll remember that, though. After all, they're all going to have to die for me to earn my crown.

The girl is reaped next. The reaping suddenly becomes interesting. The name drawn is apparently one that belongs to a missing child. The girl that's dragged up to the stage is screaming and howling the entire time. It's not a pretty sight, that's for sure. She's only thirteen and her voice is so loud and piercing that Bautista turns the volume down, trying to hide his disgust.

Caesar and Claudius look shocked as they inform the crowd that Abigail's name was put in the reaping bowl because she would have been of age. Apparently she was in the system as a legal resident of District Five, even though she was missing, so her name went into the bowl. Now, she's been found. But this girl must be having an identity crisis, because she still insists that she's not Abigail. It's very interesting. Nothing like some good old drama to stir up the Games.

They quickly segue into District Six. The boy is reaped first, from the seventeens section. He's incredibly pale and covered in freckles, with wavy brown hair that looks like he at least attempted (though feebly) to style it. He kept a pretty blank face, though angry, as he walked up the steps to join the escort. His fist was also clenched and he didn't crack. Klaus. That's his name.

The next reaped female also looks androgynous. It'll be interesting to find out these tributes' preferred pronouns. Until I know for sure, I use the umbrella neutral pronouns for our androgynous friends. They're all gonna die, but I at least shouldn't misgender them.

Anyways, Healy. That's their name. They have a scar on their chin and look very exhausted. They have thick, dark hair, a scar on their chin, and are dressed in a dress shirt and slacks. They look unsurprised. Not scared, not mad, not even tense. Just… Bored. It's very perplexing.

The female is drawn first for District Seven. There's a long pause, and I notice Peacekeepers start to walk towards the section for seventeen-year-olds, before a girl starts wildly pushing people out of the way and stomping up on the stage. In her dark eyes is pure, fiery rage. She has long, dark, silky hair, brown skin, and a piercing glare. The girl, out of nowhere, starts screaming, screaming across the silent crowd, and soon puts up her middle fingers, which is blurred on the screen, which quickly cuts to a shocked-looking Caesar and Claudius. However, Twyla stops screaming crazily when the escort picks the next name. She has her face scrunched up angrily and is holding her skirt like a little girl, though. It's funny.

The boy takes a few seconds to step out from the eighteen section when his name is called. Walden has perfectly messy brown hair and pretty blue eyes. His face soon goes from shock to a smile, but we can all see the fear in his eyes as he walks up the steps.

"I dunno what's scarier: being reaped from an outer District, or being reaped next to that nut," I comment, snickering.

"Watch out," Whimsy says quietly. "Crazy tributes are often the scariest." She bites her lip and shudders. "They're often just misunderstood. But… They're dangerous."

District Eight is next. The girl is chosen first. She takes forever to come out from the sixteen section, but, like the Seven nut, scurries up to the stage before the Peacekeepers have to find her. Serena has tan skin, silky dark hair, and brown eyes. Her eyes fill with tears as soon as her fate has been sealed, which she sniffles and tries to hide.

The boy is chosen next. He's a little thirteen-year-old kid with brown hair that's sticking up everywhere, pale skin, and freckles. He looks shocked and scared, his lower lip quivering as he joins his District partner on stage, who is full-out sobbing by now and not hiding it very well. The boy doesn't cry as he and his still-sobbing District partner shake hands. There's our first District to die right there. Unless they can't save the weird Five girl due to Capitol interest.

The girl is reaped first in District Nine. Her name is Zuzana. She has pale skin and long, straight, light brown hair, with big, twelve-year-old brown puppy eyes framed by thick lashes. When her name was called, nobody stirred, she was quiet. The Peacekeepers had to drag her away from a dark-skinned girl her age, who was also crying and clinging on. When they tore the two twelve-year-olds apart, the new tribute kept fighting, kicking and yelling. Even though she's the youngest, I wouldn't be surprised if she outlasted some of the softies, like that tribute from Three.

The boy is chosen next. His name is Triton, or should I say Triton Lanser the fifth! How pretentious does that sound? Ha! He's a skinny kid with short, straight, dark brown hair and a small, obviously malnourished frame. If the girl wasn't such a spitfire I would have bet on them to be the first District out. He walks to the stage, eyes wide, in total shock. Shocked is better than sad, though, in the eyes of competition and sponsors. He still looks shocked as he's shaking the hand of his District partner, who is still angry and fighting tears.

District Ten is after. This is one to pay at least slightly more attention to. Sometimes their tributes are alright. The female tribute is selected first. The first thing I notice about Inari is her hair, which is teal! She steps out from the seventeen section looking totally shocked. She doesn't lose the totally terrified look once she reaches the stage, either, stammering and overall fearing for her life.

The boy is reaped next. Everyone knows exactly where to look to find Kaiser, a boy with light brown skin, dark, short-cropped hair, and a tough look about him. He's a big guy and he immediately looks angry as he steps out from the eighteens section, foam practically coming out of his mouth. As soon as he reaches the steps, he's tensed, and I wonder if he's actually dumb enough to attack his escort. As soon as he's up on stage, he lunges, only held back by one of Ten's Victors. The boy struggles against her until finally giving up, looking defeated. The crowd and Capitol announcers seem pretty shocked.

The announcers briefly comment on that before District Eleven is shown.

The girl is reaped first for District Eleven. She steps out from the section for fourteen-year-olds. She looks odd for a District Eleven citizen, that's for sure. Is this just the year of oddballs and nuts?! She's not dark-skinned like the rest, just lightly tanned, and her hair is long, straight, and blonde. When the camera films the back of her walking to the stage, I notice a streak in her hair that's lighter than all the rest. That's interesting. She kept her composure until she got up on the stage, then the waterworks started. She sobbed and cried like there was no tomorrow. _Oh, Brialle. You tried._

The boy was picked next. Anders steps out of the seventeen section, keeping a cool head. He has a small afro of curly hair and tan skin. He looks tall and lean, but there appears to be some muscle on him as well. The whole way up to the stage, the boy doesn't crack. The only noise is the cries of his District partner, who seems to have given up on holding herself together for the time being. He doesn't even crack as he shakes the girl's hand and they're escorted back into the Justice Building.

 _One more District_ , I think to myself. It's a bit of a relief, honestly.

The girl is reaped first. Melanie steps out from the section designated for thirteen-year-olds. _Yes, another young one._ Young ones go easy and quick within the first day or so. None of them are really a threat, because most of them give up before the gong even rings because of their age. The only one I'm really worried about was that little spitfire, after all, and I'm sure she'll be well extinguished before the Games because so far, she's the only twelve-year-old to be drawn.

The girl that is reaped for Twelve is so thin she looks like a skeleton. She has practically no color in her face, with stringy, dark hair that hangs down to her shoulders. She's a small thing, probably starving. Tears start to pour down her cheeks as she joins the escort on the stage. Poor kid looks like a sad ghost up there. She tries to look strong, but it's hard when tears are flowing like a waterfall.

The boy is the last one picked. As long as we don't have any barbarians, this title is basically mine for the taking, as long as I pull the right strings within my own alliance. The boy walks out from the section for fourteen-year-olds and I realize he was appropriately named. Bean has a mop of dark hair that covers the top half of his face and tan skin, not to mention he's so tiny and skinny I could mistake him for an elementary schooler. The boy wrings his hands together and murmurs quietly to himself, obviously shocked, but he doesn't cry like his District partner. Seeing those two shake hands is a sad, sad sight.

Caesar and Claudius make some closing remarks after that.

"You have a good shot," Whimsy says, smiling at both of us. "I think you two know what you have to do."

"I do," Zuli says, flipping her notebook closed and giving a smile.

I smirk, thinking through the faces and observations I saw at the reapings. I won't remember everything, but I'll remember what's important. What I can use.

"Yeah. I do too."

~.~.

-?, 13, District 5-

I'm not hungry for lunch. There are sandwiches and wraps, chips and vegetables and dip, jello and all kinds of things that might on any other day seem like a tasty treat. But now I just can't make myself eat.

I had been feeling alright, really I had been. Ezreal and I had talked the whole train ride up, about the most random stuff. _What's your favorite color, did you see this pillow? Do you like animals? What's your favorite?_

Things that didn't make me think about my home. My family. Or, the person I thought was my family. The person who _has_ to be my family. He's the only family I ever knew, after all. Well, him and the voices. But the voices aren't real. I don't hear them, anyways.

I was doing alright until we had to sit and watch our competitors, tributes, be reaped. People that would want to spill our blood in a matter of weeks. And I had to watch my reaping once again, all the fright and horror coming back to me. And the confusion.

Who am I? I don't even know anymore. Who were those people? Could they have been my parents? But then… Why did Python lie to me? They were calling him Felix. They called me Abigail and him Felix. Is it really possible that they're actually our parents!? Who was that other boy!? Is he my brother!? Is Python even my brother!? I want answers! But nobody will ever give _answers_ to a thirteen-year-old. Why would anyone tell the truth to a thirteen-year-old!? She's just a kid. She's just a kid trying to be an adult. Why would anyone tell her anything important?

Python always told me the truth. Even when I didn't really want (or have) to know. He always paid me that respect. Just the thought that he's been nothing but a liar this entire time… Why would he lie to me?! Why did he do this to me?!

They bring out the buffet for lunch after that. The others quickly get up to go, but I can't stand it anymore. Before Sadie can leave the room, I grab her arm.

"What do you want kid?" she asks, not even looking down at me. Ever since goodbyes, she hasn't even looked at me. I feel tears prick at my eyes and quickly blink them back. I have to be brave, and strong. Python always said I was exceptionally brave and exceptionally strong. He said I was the strongest, bravest person he knew. But how do I know he wasn't lying? How do I know anything about who he actually is!? Who I actually am!?

"Answers," I say, still holding onto her arm and trying to keep my voice from shaking. "That's what I want. I want answers."

"And how am _I_ supposed to help you?" she asks, still not looking at me. My arms start to shake as the tears start to bubble out of my eyes.

"Look at me!" I sob out before even thinking about who I'm picking a fight at.

"Excuse me!?" she sounds mad, but I can't help it. I just feel mad. I feel even more mad than her. _She's_ not the one that's at risk of dying here! _She's_ not the one whose world was turned upside down! _She's_ not the one that's in pain right now!

"I said… Look at _me_. That's exactly what I said." My voice wobbles.

Sadie tenses, frozen, but she still doesn't look. "I am your _mentor_. I am a Victor. And I believe that you owe me a touch of respect."

"I will not respect you until you respect me," I say, balling my fists and effectively squeezing her arm. "No matter who you are, or what your status is. If you don't respect me, I will not respect you."

She falls totally silent for a long while. I have no idea what she's going to do. Maybe she'll just slug me. Maybe she'll let it go. My heart pounds as I wait for her to do something.

She shakes me off of her arm in a violent motion, and after a pause, she turns around and looks at me with a cold gaze.

"Most tributes don't have balls like you do," she says.

"I'm not most tributes," I say defiantly. Her gaze falters all of a sudden. I have no idea why… At first I wonder why. I changed into a crewneck and jeans after the reaping, but… Oh yeah. I'm still wearing that piece of cloth around my neck. I reach up to hold onto it and look back up at Sadie. "Gaylen gave this to me."

Sadie stares at the cobalt bandana for a minute before breaking her gaze away to sit back down. "He really did it."

"He told me about it. And what it represents."

"It's not to be taken lightly," she says.

"I know."

"And neither is his… Love for… You."

"For Python," I murmur.

"Him too." There's a slight pause. "Idiot."

"Who am I Sadie? Who is he? Please just tell me what's going on. I had to grow up already. I can handle it."

"I… Shouldn't be the one-"

"Sadie, please. If I'm going to die, I want to know the truth."

"You're not going to die."

"Please just tell me the truth!"

Sadie looks conflicted. "I don't know the whole story."

"Just tell me what you know that's true."

"Abigail Macbeth is a missing child. It's a pretty significant case. Not many missing child cases are reported and taken seriously by the force, but because her… Your-"

"No!"

"You said you wanted the truth. Don't you?"

I bite my lip and wipe at my eyes. "Yes. I want the truth. The ugly truth."

"Then listen to the truth."

I nod silently, bracing myself for what I'm about to hear.

"Your parents were very rich and high-standing people. They reported to the Peacekeeper forces, and the search was hot for a long time. They claimed that their child was kidnapped by her older brother, Felix."

"Python."

Sadie nods grimly. "The search was eventually dropped because nothing came of it. Felix had gotten away. But they continued to put the name Abigail Macbeth into the reaping bowl because she was never taken out of the system, even though they didn't have any DNA for her."

"My first reaping," I say quietly. "I had a lot of trouble checking in."

"Probably because there was no Turtle D'Angelo in the system."

I reach up to wipe my eyes and sniffle. Sadie passes me a tissue and I blow my nose.

"What else do you know? Why did he take me? Why did he lie?"

"I… I don't know."

"He's a liar," I say, blowing my nose again as more tears pour out of my eyes. "All my life he's lied to me."

"That's most likely true."

"Why? Why would he lie? Python was a good person. Why would he be lying?" I stare up at Sadie with teary eyes.

"I… Maybe he's just not a good person after all."

"Please. No." Tears roll down my cheeks. "I can't believe that. I can't just believe that he's a bad person."

"Sometimes it's hard for us to see that in the people we love," she says.

"He's the only person that's been there for me through it all, Sadie! He… He can't be…"

"I think that's a decision I can't make for you." I know that she's right. I can't just ask her for answers like a little kid. There's a pause as a question, a terrifying thought, suddenly appears in my head.

"Is he in prison, Sadie?" I have to know. I have to know if Python is okay. I might hate him right now for lying, but in the end he is still my brother, and my family. The only family I've ever known. I have to know if he's okay. I have to know where he is.

"I… I don't know."

I wipe my eyes. "Will Gaylen visit him? Will Gaylen still love him? Even if he's a prisoner."

"My brother is a genius. But he's also an idiot. Of course he will."

I smile a bit through the tears. "Good. I'm glad."

Sadie looks like she wants to say something, but stops herself. I'm thankful for that. I know it might be ridiculous that I'm glad, but I just can't help it. I love Python. Even though he lied. The truth is that I can't help but love him. Even if he lied, I'm sure he still loves me.

"Turtle!" Ezreal's voice chimes as his face appears in the doorway. "You _have_ to come try this- oh…"

I quickly wipe at my eyes. I don't want him to see me cry! That's totally not cool, after all!

"I…"

"I'll be right there," I say, sniffling.

But instead of going back to the table, Ezreal runs in and practically throws his arms around me in a tight hug, which I quickly return.

"I'm so sorry," he says.

I don't respond. I don't think I need to. I just try to keep from full-on sobbing into Ezreal's shoulder. This morning it would have been amazing to be in his arms. But now all I can feel is cold, dark, hollow sadness.

"Tributes?" the gentle voice of Sidonia asks, breaking the silence.

"We're on our way Sidonia," Ezreal says quietly, "Thank you."

He starts to let go, so I reluctantly do the same.

"Thanks," I say quietly, as the two of us walk out to the dining room to eat lunch. Lunch goes by without issue. Alpha keeps glancing at me, but Sadie gives him a harsh look and he stops. The conversation is light and dodges all the big issues. I eat a bunch of food I never dreamed I would get to eat, and it all tastes better than I imagined.

After lunch, we still have about an hour before we had to report to our prep teams before chariots.

"Now what?" I ask. I wonder if maybe we should strategize or something, even if I don't want to think about that.

"Maybe-" Alpha starts, but Ezreal starts talking at the same time.

"Did you see the big hat room in your closet?!" Ez asks excitedly.

"The what? No!"

"You said you like cool hats, right?" he asks, his blue eyes alight in excitement.

"Yeah, I do!"

"Come on then!"

He runs off and I follow quickly.

"I've been messing around with some of the cool tech stuff here," he says excitedly. He shows me thing after thing, from the projections of nature on the walls to the various settings on the shower. Each thing amazes me even more, and I'm so excited to see what he has to show me next.

By far the most exciting thing we find is the surround-sound radio. I've never in my life heard the Capitol radio played so clearly and loudly. I'm practically bouncing as Ez takes my hand and pulls me towards the closet, laughing all the way.

I follow, and am shocked to hear the Capitol radio played in my closet, just as loud and clear as it was in my room.

"Isn't it amazing?" Ez asks, as I look around the giant room, which has racks upon racks of hats. I have to take a second as I look at all the hats, just trying to think of which I should try on first.

"It… It's amazing!" I bounce on my feet and we exchange a wide grin.

I hurry over to a rack where a lovely red hat with a feather is waiting to be put on my head. I put it on and turn around, to where Ez is watching me and smiling.

"Aren't you going to try one on?" I ask, grinning.

"Oh, okay!" he quickly heads over to a rack and puts on a tan cowboy hat that looks like it came straight from District Ten.

"How does this one look?" he asks, grinning.

"Dashing," I say, before realizing what I said and quickly blushing. Ez doesn't seem to notice though, because he keeps smiling.

"Why thank you! And I must say, that's one cool hat you have on!"

I giggle and try with everything in me not to blush as I do a twirl. Ez quickly starts looking through the hats and I do the same.

"Look at this one!" I say, getting a hat out that has a propeller on it and putting it on my head.

"That's a nice one!" he says, turning around and showing me the hat he found, which makes it look like a shark is eating his head. I double over at the ridiculous sight.

"No, that one is the winner for coolest hat, by far."

"I'm being eaten!" he says dramatically, waving his arms around like crazy.

"I'll save you with my… PROPELLER POWERS!" I shout dramatically, flicking the propeller on the top of my hat, which causes both of us to howl with laugher until my cheeks start to hurt. Quickly, wordlessly, both of us turn around and start looking for our next display.

"Look at this one!" I say, pulling out a conical Princess hat and putting it on my head.

"Oh, that one's cute!" he says. "Way better than this one I found." The one he found is shaped like a piece of cheese.

"Um, no, cheese definitely beats princess. Any day."

Ezreal grins at me. "But the girl _wearing_ the princess hat definitely beats cheese."

I didn't even think my smile _could_ widen more than it already was. "Oh…"

"She's pretty cool!"

"Thanks," I giggle, taking off the princess hat and replacing it with a golden helmet with two curved horns coming out of either side.

"We will go to battle together," Ez says, as he shows me the golden helmet he found.

"We are brave warriors," I say, still smiling. I can't help but think about how it's really true, though.

"Hat switch!" he says, and we both go for other hats. I put on a hat shaped like a birthday cake. When I look up, he's wearing a giant, multi-colored top hat.

"Is it your birthday?"

Ez laughs. "No! But it could be my un-birthday!"

We both laugh as I notice the upbeat song that comes on the radio.

"I love the radio!" I say, grinning.

"I've never listened to music like this before!" Ez says. "I like it!"

I smile. "How about we turn this crazy hat party into a crazy heart dance party?" I ask, smiling at him. For some reason, I'm not really afraid to talk to him anymore. Which is kind of crazy because he's _soooo_ cute.

"I'm not very good, but I'll try to keep up!" he says, grinning.

By the time he says it, I'm already dancing around. I can't help it, I just love to move. For a while we just stay in our hats and dance, but soon we're alternating between dancing and trying on hats. Ezreal really isn't that bad a dancer when he gets into it, and soon we're both bouncing around. I try on a floppy gardener's hat and he wears a purple wizard hat with stars on it. I put on a red hat with a white pom pom the end, and he tries on a giant green top hat. All the while we're twirling around and trying on new hats and laughing. It's the most fun I think I've ever had, and it gets my mind off of all the horrible things that have been happening.

"Tributes!" Sidonia's voice calls.

"Are you alright in there guys?" Alpha calls.

"We're fine!" Ez says, as Alpha appears, Sidonia behind him.

"There you are! Don't you want to come talk strategy with us?" Alpha asks, sounding concerned.

"Don't _you_ want a hat?" I ask, showing off the flower pot hat I'm wearing.

"They're fun!" Ez says, grinning. He's wearing a hat that looks like an owl.

"Well…" Sidonia says, sounding slightly hesitant.

"Of course!" Alpha says. "How about you both pick one out for me?"

Ez and I exchange a wide grin and quickly start flipping through our piles of hats to find the perfect one for Alpha. We decide on a steampunk-type top hat for him with goggles on it. For Sidonia, after some debate, we choose a dark blue sunhat with a bow on it. Even though Sidonia has an edgy haircut, we decided it would show her sweet personality. The other option was a camouflage army hat that Ez was excited about, but it's not Sidonia at all.

Then, we decide to pick our favorite hats to wear. I choose a hat with bunny ears, because I think it makes me look cute and that's what I want. Ezreal chooses a newsboy cap. When I turn around and see it on him, my breath catches. He's just… God he's cute in that. Too cute for words. He gives me a smile and I almost forget to speak. Quickly, I turn to the other two.

"Well if they get hats, they also have to dance with us!" I decide, as another high-energy pop tune comes on the radio.

"You're right!" he says.

"Well," Alpha says, glancing over at Sidonia. "Rules are rules."

Sidonia's lips spread into a smile. "Well, I suppose they are."

I take our escort's hands and bounce around, and soon all four of us are dancing around the room. Alpha does the running man and we're all impressed. Ezreal does some kind of dance he calls a jig, but I'm impressed by his fast footwork. I don't really have a signature move, so I just kind of do the best I can. All four of us laugh as Alpha tries to teach Ezreal how to do a move he calls the "Charlie Brown," to not much success.

Sidonia twirls me around and I laugh in delight. I forgot how fun it is to twirl. For just a little while, the four of us dance, without another fear or worry in the world.

Too soon, the song ends, and we're forced to face reality again.

"You have to report to your styling room in about half an hour," Alpha says. "We should probably congregate and at least pin down the fundamentals."

"Oh, right," I say. Ez doesn't say anything. When we glance over, my District partner is gasping for breath, grabbing his chest.

"Ez?!" I ask, concerned. He puts up a hand but doesn't say anything. He really can't, he's gasping too much.

"Let's head back to the main room and get you some water," Alpha says. "Can you walk?"

Ez is gasping, but he nods. He takes a step forward and gasps again. Alpha and Sidonia help him back out to the living room, and I follow, concerned. Is he alright?"

Ezreal plops down on the couch, gasping, and Sidonia quickly grabs him a glass of water. He pants and holds his chest.

"Are you okay? Ez?" I ask, overwhelmed with concern.

"I'm… Alright," he pants. "Just… Winded. S'all."

"Okay…"

"You alright buddy?" Alpha asks, looking concerned.

"Yeah, I'm good," he says, smiling, but still panting. "Thanks. I just have a condition called HCM. My heart is too big so sometimes I lose my breath easily. But, it's really not a problem. I promise."

"Oh, goodness," I breathe. That must be hard. I feel bad for him. Ez just keeps on smiling, though, as always. Part of me wonders if he ever feels sadness. I mean, I'm sure he does, but… I can't even imagine what that might look like.

"It's alright, though!" he says quickly. "Please don't be worried about me! I manage! It's really not threatening to me at all!"

He smiles so convincingly I know he's going to be just fine. I smile at him, and he grins back at me with that cute smile of his.

"Alright, so how about we do some quick strategy talk?" Alpha asks.

"Right!" we both say dutifully.

"Finally," grumbles Sadie.

I try to keep my nerves down as we go through the strategy for chariots. This is the first step on a long road, and I have to make a good first impression.

 _ **A/N: Yay, I'm so excited to have this chapter done and ready to share! It turned out pretty long, though, lol. That's alright, though. Hopefully you all enjoyed these thoughts from Nea and Turtle! Sorry if the last POV is kind of choppy, I kept getting distractedby my mom so it was a lot of starting and stopping. -_-**_

 _ **Anyways, let me know your thoughts! Also, let me know what you think of our characters and what you'd like to see more of! Your input matters to me!**_

 _ **Chapter Question: Which tributes peaked your interest most from the recap? Which hat was your favorite in Turtle's POV? Any tributes you want to see interacting at chariots?**_

 _ **Thanks for all your support! Next chapter Nez and Kaiser will talk chariots! See ya then!**_


	8. Elastic Hearts

**Chariot Prep**

-Kaiser Picasso, 18, District 10-

I've done a pretty good job at avoiding pretty much everyone so far. Which really doesn't bother me. The life of a prisoner is a lonely one, I think I've learned how to not be so dependent on the guidance of other people. Amazing how those things change people.

Ottile and Crew spent a millennium debating who should mentor who. Like I care. I mean, I don't intend on having bad blood with my mentor, but I also don't intend on getting buddy-buddy with them.

They had a hushed conversation about it, Inspektor included. Of course the Capitolite bitch couldn't have his loving wife mentor the criminal. Even though she'd rather work with someone that has a chance. Crew is just plain terrified of us both. He's District Ten's most recent Victor, winning the 59th Games. He looks pretty intimidating and scary, but inside he's exactly the opposite. The kid's a pushover. Inspektor was trying to argue that I could afford to have a less competent mentor because I had a better chance. They all three acted like we couldn't hear them bitching over there.

Ever since they started talking, I felt the eyes of my District partner on me. Trying to exchange a look with me, perhaps. She did try to talk to me once or twice, but when she noticed I wasn't responding, her voice just kind of wavered away into nothing. Just how it should be.

The mentors finally decided that Ottile would take me, and Crew would mentor the girl, much to Inspektor's dismay. Little bitch. Maybe if you didn't want to deal with me, you shouldn't have drawn my name out of the bowl, eh mate? But, you did. Trust me, I hate being here just as much as you hate me being here, you little bitch.

The little pushovers will do just fine together. I'll take a mentor that actually has a shot at getting me out of here alive. After all, isn't that the point of this whole thing? I hate being here, but winning means earning my freedom as long as I might live. Winning means four walls and a roof to shelter myself and my Mom from the cold wind and rain and the brutal sun and heat. And food to put in our mouths. And, of course, winning means I'm not dead, which is probably the most important one. I have so many important things to live for, and I'm not ready to throw my chance away. Only an idiot would do that. There's a way to play the game, and I'll play it the right way. That's the only way to do it. The only way to get out alive, in one piece.

The reaping recaps give an idea about what to expect from my competition, but the first real indication of how this thing's going to go will be the chariot rides. I have no idea what the behind-the-scenes of these things are like, and I never thought I'd have the misfortune of knowing it. However, if I can see the tributes: especially the Careers: interact, then I'll have an advantage. It's always good to know who is with who, who likes who, and who hates who. It's the best way to win.

Unfortunately, the whole debate thing took so long that I don't even get to consult Ottile before I am being whisked away by Capitolites with freakishly long nails and crazily-colored hair and eyes. Guess the mouse will fit in well here. After all, she's the only citizen in District Ten that could possibly have the balls, let alone the money, to color her hair. And it's… Interesting. Not that interesting. Maybe snooty. I bet she's a snoot pushover.

I try to focus on the tits, but when they're so obviously fake it just isn't as fun. There's just something about natural bodies. Although I'm pretty sure that I got some intentional tits in my face as they're taking measurements and chirping about changes that need to be made to whatever outfit they're making for me. Probably something terrible and ridiculous. But I know that if I even want to have a chance at getting out of here I'm just going to have to deal. After years of cardboard disguised as food, cells that were cleaned once a year if we were lucky, and manual labor requirements that last from before sunrise till after sunset, I think I've learned how to just deal. I hope I have, at least.

The team clip clops out, chattering amongst themselves about how the waist size is too big, legs too long, and how they have lots of work to do to make this thing work. I'm left alone in the room, wrapped in a robe, as they report back to whoever has the misfortune of being in charge of this crazy operation.

I rub a finger across the tattoo on my wrist, a nervous habit I know I'll have to break someday to prevent from being laughed at. I've been trying for a while now. Sometimes I just have to remember what's waiting for me back home. It's not much, but it's mine. My mother, my only family and best friend. We both made crazy stupid decisions, we've both sacrificed our lives for each other, in different ways. She gave up the life she knew to mother a baby whose father left her. I gave up the life I knew to save her. And I would do it again.

The first time the guards beat me, I couldn't help but feel angry. I was angry that my mother needed me to pull the trigger. I was angry that I ended up there because of her. But as I got used to it, I realized that she couldn't have lasted in this life. I could. And I fully intended on doing so. I was there because I loved her, and I knew that she couldn't have taken it. I could, and for her, I would. I'm a tenacious bastard. I know how to get where I need to be. And being in prison just taught me more about how to get what I want. Ultimately, I learned to accept my lot and try to make as much out of it as I could. I mean, I think I've done an alright job. I built my cred as much as I could, climbed to the top. Sure, I still get heckled, but I did what I had to. And I got some nice sex on the way.

I don't have a bunch of people waiting for me to come home. I have one, maybe two if Lydia actually cares. Which is doubtful. She's so hot-and-cold I can never tell. But that one person is everything. Without me, she'll have no one left. She lost everyone she knew and loved for me, and I can't stand to think of what would happen if she lost me too. That's why I have to hold strong. I'm going to do whatever the hell it takes to get out of here with my life. This is my chance to earn my freedom, after all. I mean, it's a bit ironic that I'll win freedom from prison for murder by committing mass murder, but that doesn't matter. None of these people matter. The only thing that matters is still back in District Ten. I'll figure out how to live when I get home. From here on out, the name of the game is figuring out how to live.

My prep team enters again, all of them beaming and holding up various devices.

"It's time!" one of them chirps, a man at least half a foot shorter than me. When they step closer, I quickly step back. When I see Capitolites with metal objects, I know what's coming. I steel myself to keep from shaking. I'll take whatever they throw at me.

"Look at him," one of them snips. "He looks like he's never seen nail clippers before."

"Ugh, just look at those hideous fingers. Surely he hasn't." My prep team laughs, which immediately makes me draw into myself, wondering what they're possibly going to do to me.

This causes all three of them to howl with laughter. "Look at him! _This_ is the 'winner 'Cornelia was talking about?" The mocking causes me to clench my teeth. I have to deal. I just have to deal. I have to manage it. I have to put the anger away. I've gotten time added to my sentence for attacking guards. I can't stand to do that here. I can't stand to do it.

Their laughter rings in my ears, travels around my head, squeezes me until I can't see straight. My fists clench so hard my nails dig into my palms, hoping that the pain will snap me out of it. Goddammit.

"Alright, alright everyone, we have some serious work to do. Now then." They all sigh with laughter before they start to come closer. The closer they come, the more I involuntarily tense. I don't know what those things they're holding are, or what they do, but I hope whatever they do is fast and I hope it doesn't make any marks that the camera will see. I would hate for my Mom to see and know what they were doing. I try to cover the spots when they happen. I've been doing better. It's been a while since the guards beat me. I've been holding my place. Trying desperately to get my freedom as early as possible.

The Capitolites stop to laugh some more.

"Just look at him! And look at that-"

"Amphion." A cold voice from the doorway makes us look up.

A woman enters the room. She has hair that starts dark at the roots and transitions into a light bubblegum pink. It's… Simple. Almost tasteful. The most off-putting part about her is her bright red eyes, which are glaring at the man on my prep team.

"I believe you should be working," she says.

"C-Cornelia! O-Of course!"

"This kid won't let us do anything!" whines one of the girls, whose hair is a colorful monstrosity.

"I wouldn't let you touch me either. Not with how you've been acting. You are all dismissed."

"No! Cornelia! Please!"

"Go work on the outfit. I will complete the prep."

The other three Capitolites leave the room, all of them muttering under their breath and blaming each other.

"Kaiser. I'm your Head Stylist Cornelia. So sorry our first meeting had to be like this."

"It's okay," I say quietly. Embarrassed. Defeated.

"Please have a seat. I will do your prep."

"Isn't that a three-person job?"

"For some of those girls, yes indeed. For males, it's a two-person job at most. Well, a two-idiot job. One person could easily complete the prep in the time allotted. But on the precedent of keeping everything even, you have three."

"Oh."

Cornelia opens a box and pulls out a pair of scissors like Amphion was holding.

"I'm going to use these to cut your nails, alright?"

"My nails?" I glance at my hands. "Um, okay. Does it hurt?"

Cornelia smiles a bit and shakes her head. "No, it doesn't."

"Okay…" I put my hands up on the table, where Cornelia turns on a light and takes my hand. Hers are so smooth compared to mine. The process isn't particularly pleasant, but it's not bad. She puts some cream on my hands, trying to moisturize them and clean them. She then cuts my hair, waxes my eyebrows, and sends me to the bath, where some vile green soap is used to break up the ever-existing dirt in my nails and caked on my hands. I'll admit that being bathed by a pretty lady almost makes the insistent scrubbing and acidic smell worth it, but just barely.

After that, I'm put in a robe and given some crackers and cheese that actually have taste as I wait for my costume to be brought out.

It takes a while, but soon my prep team comes in, all of them looking sullen, Cornelia behind them.

The outfit I've been selected to wear is lackluster at best. Like every other year, I'm put in a cowboy outfit. This year, the tacky choice involves too tight brown and white cow-print chaps, a brown vest, white undershirt, and a red bandana. And who could forget the brown leather boots with spurs? And, of course, the tacky piece of resistance, the dark brown Stetson hat. Couldn't have been less inspired if I tried.

Although I suppose it could definitely be worse.

"Good work team. And by team, I mean me."

"Excuse you, we were the ones that made all the costume adjustments!" Amphion whines, but Cornelia waves him off. I have to say that I respect powerful women.

"Yes, but I very well could have done it alone."

More grumbling ensued as Cornelia gives me a smile. "Right this way Kaiser," she says. "Your chariot awaits."

I give a brief snort of laughter as she leads me through the halls. I didn't realize how large the Complex was until we were weaving around the hallways of the bottom floor, until we arrive at the waiting pit for chariots. The room is huge, and the horses are towering. It's spectacular.

"There you are," Ottile said, smirking. "Cow, your boy has arrived."

Inari turns around and my mind goes blank. I don't know if I want to laugh or… Or… I don't know, I don't know what I'm thinking. She's wearing a fuzzy onesie that is supposed to be some kind of cow costume. Her hair has been re-colored, a dark teal that's slightly darker than it was when she was reaped.

"Moo," she says, with a little smile on her face. Her prep team upped the blush to give her rosy little cheeks and used gloss for shiny lips that almost look natural. She's a little cow. She's a small cow. She's a cow. She looks like a little baby cow. God, I don't know if I want to laugh or puke or what. Pathetic, right? The best thing they could come up with is a fucking cow and a cowboy. Ridiculous. God. Look at her. She looks so tiny and defenseless. Why would any tribute want to look so goddamn cutesy? Blech. Gross. Ew. I can't, even, like, not look at her because it's just so…So gross. _Moo_. Ugh.

Everyone's looking at me. Wait, why is everyone looking at me?

"What?" I ask. Ottile sighs, but they're still looking at me.

"Are you finally back with us?" she asks, rolling her eyes.

"Sorry 'bout that," I mutter, crossing my arms. Nobody has to know why I zoned out. Nobody at all.

"I think the two of you should do some kind of interaction when you reach the Circle," Cornelia says. The woman standing next to her nods in agreement. She probably introduced herself when I was in moo moo land, but I assume she's Inari's stylist.

"Why would we do that?" I ask.

"Because I'm the cow and you're the cowboy!" Inari says, still laughing. I'm not sure if I respect her optimism or am sickened by it. Maybe both.

"Whatever. But as little as possible. Anything to get these snot-nosed Capitoltes behind me. That's it." I don't know why I have to be so sure that they know, but I do. Nothing more than just, I don't know, a little head pat. But even that's pushing it. Maybe I'll just do a simple nod of acknowledgment. That's enough.

A voice over the speakers announces, "Tributes, please board your chariots. Doors open in fifteen!"

I look around as the other tributes flock towards their respective chariots. I get up on the chariot first, causing one of the horses to give a little snort that makes me smile.

"I love them too," Inari says, hoisting herself up on the chariot. "I grew up with them. Did you?"

"Wh-what makes you think we're going to be all buddy-buddy now that we're in some… Stupid costumes?"

"Well it was worth a shot." She gives a little pout, and I just can't take it anymore, it's too ridiculous seeing her little cheeks puff in that stupidly adorable little outfit. I burst out laughing. That makes her pout more, which makes me laugh more. Oh God, I haven't laughed this hard in years. It's just so fucking ridiculous. Her little face! Goddammit. It's just so ridiculous.

"What?" she asks, as the little cow hands go back on the cow hips and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing more. "Kaiser!" she tries to punch my arm but it feels more like a tiny tap.

"I'm sorry," I say, sighing and getting ahold of myself. "It's just…" another laugh comes out and her little cow face gets even more pouty. God, she's making this hard for me. "You look…"

"Finish that sentence." She says, giving me a look I've seen from some of the women in my life before. It means, _don't finish that sentence_. Not that I really care what _she_ thinks. Like, not that I'd care about hurting _her_ feelings. Pfft. That'd be dumb.

"Cut me some slack here. You're dressed like a _cow_."

Inari glances down at her outfit, and her stern Mom expression quickly melts and is replaced by one of her bright smiles. "You're right. It is funny. I'm sorry I got weird. It's just… A little nerve-wracking, you know?"

"No kidding," I breathe.

"But I'm sure we'll do just fine." She gives another optimistic smile.

"I hope." The door opens just then and the District One chariot lurches into action. Has it been fifteen minutes already? I didn't even _look_ at any of the other tributes! I just barely notice District Nine's typical grain costumes when I feel a weight in my hand, squeezing it.

"What the-!?"

"Oh, sorry," she says. "I just, y'know. For luck." I notice that she still hasn't stopped go, or even stopped squeezing. I give her a brief squeeze back.

"Yeah, whatever."

She smiles and looks away from me after letting go of my hand. District Nine's chariot starts moving, and soon ours follows. Inari looks nervous for a second, but then puts on her dazzlingly disgusting cutesy smile as we enter the crowd.

~.~.

 **Chariot Parade**

-Deck Kozart, 20, Intern-

The Complex is buzzing, and all I'm allowed to do is sit back and watch. Maybe takes notes, "if you want." Of course I want to take notes. But even more than that, I want to be involved. I want to be bustling around with the rest of them, planning and making accommodations and arrangements as the doors open, revealing the tributes to the adoring crowd.

There's a lot of energy buzzing around the room as various employees chatter and watch the screens set up that display live footage on each of the cameras posted around the area.

It's a risky thing, this business. Bella told me so. She seemed surprised that I was even here, after everything that happened to my parents. My mother died soon after my sibling and I were born, after a criminal made it out of the Arena alive and the next year wasn't much better. My father was a Head Gamemaker as well, that took over right after my Mom died. He was able to escape with his life, though, and raised Singe and I tirelessly. And we were a lot of trouble. I would never want to be a Head Gamemaker, not after the high stakes of the job prevented me from knowing my mother.

However, the Games are cool. I have a lot of the way paved for me because of my parents, and my grades. It's a high-status, high-paying job. Maybe I'll never be a Head Gamemaker, but maybe I'll take the initiative to be part of the team behind the scenes.

But, until I work my way up to the top, here I sit, with a cup of coffee and teeming with excitement. It's always fun to see the tributes, especially in the high-energy atmosphere of the chariot parades. Here's the tributes' first chances to make a good impression. I hope they make the most of it.

I watch as the mixer switches to Camera A, displaying Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith, who are just as cheery and bubbly as ever.

"Welcome, citizens of Panem, to our 61st Annual Tribute Parade!"

"Ah, yes, it's going to be a zinger," Claudius says, and both men laugh.

"Main Street is currently buzzing with our own, waiting to get a first glance at the courageous young people who have been selected to represent their homes in the 61st annual Hunger Games!" Caesar says.

"Oh, it's just so exciting! I can't wait anymore! The doors are opening and the tributes are coming!"

The crowd roars as the District One chariot rolls out, the cameras capturing the moment and making me smile.

The District One theme this year is metallic. Lazuli, the girl, wears a flashy rose gold dress that reflects the lights and gives her a radiant glow. The dress ends halfway above her thighs, not leaving too much to the imagination. She wears tall rose gold metallic boots with heels. Her dirty blonde hair, which was a frizzy mess at the reaping, has been tamed and now looks silky and smooth. She has a small rose gold leaf tucked behind her ear to match the rest of her outfit, and the rose-golden color that was applied to her lips. However, she isn't flaunting this gorgeous outfit like any other District One girl would. Instead, she looks dumbly shocked and tense, awkward almost, her eyes wide.

Her District partner, however, does make the most of what he has. He's wearing a flashy suit in the same shade as his District partner, which reflects the lights, illuminating his chiseled face and sparkling off of his gorgeous dark blue eyes. Like any self-respecting District One tribute would, Neapolitan smiles and waves at the crowd. His little smirkish smile gets the crowd going from the start.

The District Two chariot rolls up behind them, and it makes the crowd go even more crazy. Lori is a real beauty, tall and slender, with sandy blonde hair, perfectly tanned skin, and blue eyes. She's dressed in a typical District Two outfit, but why fix what isn't broken? She's wearing golden armor that makes her look much more intimidating and stronger. Lori is basking in the attention, which the crowd loves. Unlike the girl from One, this is a girl who knows how to flaunt what she has, and the crowd is eating it up.

Next to her is her towering District partner, Nebuchadnezzar. He has a golden suit of armor, and in his dark brown hair, he wears the same headpiece he volunteered in, with two golden wings that pop up from behind his ears. He has a proud smile on as he stands tall, which the crowd loves.

The next chariot, District Three, is usually where the crowd starts to cool down, waiting for the District Four chariot. But not this year. I always loved District Three, and this year I think their stylists did well for them.

The boy, Heiko, is dressed in a dark brown, heavy jacket, with multiple weapons slung over the shoulders. He wears dirty-looking cargo pants, and has dirt smudges on his face that make his welcoming aura seem slightly tough. He wears a mask around his mouth that looks slightly like a cage, adding to the tough look. The crowd loves it. Much better than the typical robot outfits.

His District partner, Job, is wearing a steampunk dress. The top is a brown leather corset that has bronze gears attached, all different sizes. The skirt is printed with a golden gear pattern as well. She wears brown boots with heels and a brown leather top hat over her curly black hair. Her blue eyes pop thanks to some dark eyeliner and brown eyeshadow, and any blemishes on her pale complexion have been skillfully covered. She smiles at the crowd and waves, but seems slightly uncomfortable with it. But hey, work what you got.

The crowd, for once, is still going crazy when District Four's chariot rolls into view. And this year, Four is the one that causes them to quiet them. This year, the tributes are ridiculously dressed. Both of them are giant pieces of sushi, with only their faces sticking out of the ridiculous costumes. The crowd is laughing, but not in a good way. I feel bad for those two, but neither of them seems to mind at all.

Ott seems to be having the time of his life. He's waving to the crowd and beaming like he's not dressed in a ridiculous sushi costume. He can't really wave, so he's just waving his hand and jumping around, but the crowd is getting pumped up. He's beaming from ear-to-ear, which is surprising. His District partner Garrett does the same. He's also waving his hands and jumping on his feet. His warm brown eyes are lit up, and everyone can see his Games-winning dimples. The crowd loves that these two are so excited, and it saves the horrible costumes.

District Five is where they really start to cool down, considering their costumes are similar to those of the past. Both tributes wear black bodysuits with lights hung on them that blink multiple colors. However, the tributes seem to be the sweethearts of this bunch. Fourteen-year-old Ezreal's blue eyes are almost as lit up as is costume, and he smiles and waves to the crowd like they're his friends. His District partner, Abigail, is waving and smiling, feeding off of his energy. The two make a cute pair, but I wonder if they can hold their own individually.

District Six's chariot is next, and it's nothing noteworthy. Healy Hudson is scowling and not doing anything to appeal to the crowd. However, that may be a good angle for her because she looks tough, especially with the noticeable scar on her chin. However, her costume takes away from the tough angle, considering she's wearing a black and red jumpsuit with different logos pasted all over it. Klaus, her District partner, does try to smile and appeal to the crowd. He's dressed as a referee, with a white and black-striped outfit and a white hat covering his wavy brown hair.

District Seven is just lame. Once again, the tributes are dressed as pine trees. It really takes away from the boy's intimidating height. Even though Walden's costume is atrocious, he still tries to make it work. He tries to have the same kind of posture and smirk a Career would have, and I'm sure if he had a better costume the crowds would have been all over him. Twyla, his District partner, is still scowling. She has an intense look on her face, which is humorous considering she's trapped in such a horrible costume. Neither of them can be particularly tough or charming, but dammit if they didn't try.

District Eight is almost interesting. The girl, Serena, has her fine black hair in an attractive messy ponytail, her make-up skillfully done to highlight her beauty, which was overlooked at the reaping. She's wearing a black tunic with socks and colorful make-up to match. Her hair is tied back with a colorful bow. However, like the One girl, she doesn't flaunt the cute outfit or her natural beauty. She just stands awkwardly and seems tense, staring at the floor of the chariot. Her District partner, Saville, is trying at least. He wears a black tunic with a rainbow feather bow wrapped around his waist, with matching socks. He has trouble pumping up the crowds because his District partner seems so scared, but he's trying.

District Nine was probably the lamest of them all. The tributes wear drab grain tunics that do nothing cute or attractive for either. Zuzanna plays the cute angle as best as she can, smiling at the crowd and waving and swaying from side to side with her hands behind her back. She does her best with what she has, and the crowd appreciates it. Blair also waves to the crowd and smiles, but the outfit really doesn't help them out. I watch as Caesar and Claudius inform the crowd that Blair is the preferred name of the District Nine tribute, who identifies as agender. Blair tries their best, and the crowd buys into the Nine tribute's cutesy act.

Next comes District Ten. The boy, Kaiser, is dressed as a typical cowboy. He looks like he's trying to be inviting, which is surprising because he seems pretty tough. And, as many Capitolites don't yet know, he was reaped out of prison. This doesn't happen too often, but that is a detail that will be mentioned later. For now, he can try to be a nice guy. His District partner is adorable in a little onesie made to resemble a cow. She's got a cutesy costume and is a cutesy girl. Her hair has been re-dyed, much less trashy now. When they approach the square, Kaiser gives his cow a head pat, and she happily moos and grabs his arm, almost launching herself at him. The crowd bursts into laughter and applause, and even I smile.

District Eleven is lackluster at best compared to that show. The boy, Anders, is dressed as a simple farmer, wearing overall jeans, plaid, and a straw hat. He tries to show off his tall, muscular frame by keeping a serious face, but also waves to the crowd. His District partner, a little abnormality from the agriculture District, is also dressed like a typical farmer, in the exact same outfit as her District partner, only smaller to fit her frame. She waves, looking slightly nervous but trying to smile.

Just like that, it's time for the last chariot, from District Twelve. The tributes, as usual, are dressed like coal miners. They have heavy brown coats and helmets with lights on them, with some fake dirt on their faces for effect. The girl is typical of District Twelve, with olive skin and dark hair. The helmet practically covers her entire face, but she keeps trying to move it so that she can see the crowd and wave. The boy, Bean, is making as much as he can out of this. He keeps on a smile and waves energetically to the crowd. But, he has a lot of competition for the little and cute angle. His mop of dark hair is pushed down into his face by the large helmet, which he has to keep moving to see.

President Snow gives his speech, as each tribute is individually highlighted. And then, just like that, it's over. The chariots make one last lap around the circle and go back down Main Street, through the adoring crowds, back to the Tribute Complex.

Caesar and Claudius gush about how it was such a great show, and relief floods the Complex as we pat each other on the back. A job well done. It's certainly going to be an… Interesting year.

~.~.

 **Post-Chariots**

-Nebuchadnezzar Spiros, 18, District 2-

"Do me a favor and don't embarrass us, alright?" I ask Lori as I help her off the chariot. The last thing I need is for the District One tributes thinking we're going to pussyfoot around this Games. And, with Lori's personality, let's just say that it's… Easy for them to write us off.

"What makes you think I would do that?" she asks, starting to take off her armor. She wouldn't stop bitching about how mainstream and drab our costumes were, so it's a miracle that we didn't totally crash during the parade. I have to stop her before she takes off the drab maroon slip we were given to wear under our armor."

"No nudity."

"You act like you're my father. What, you want me to call you _Daddy_?"

"I want our District to have some form of dignity after this encounter," I sigh. "And don't call me Daddy."

"You're so rude, _Daddy_."

"No. Daddy stops _here._ You hear me?"

"What will you do? _Punish_ me?" she starts to cackle and I can't help but facepalm.

"You're ridiculous."

"And you're Daddy."

"For the love of-" I'm cut off by the approaching One tributes. "Just don't scare them away, would you?"

" _Me_ scare them away? _You_ don't scare them away, _Euron_."

God, she's been calling me his name ever since we got on the train. When will she understand that I beat out her little friend for the spot fair and square? I clench my fists but put on a smile when the One boy gives a friendly smile.

"Hello District Two!" he says in a chipper, cheery voice. His District partner follows behind him, much less excited-looking than him. "My name is Neapolitan." He's a confident bastard, I'll give him that much. And by the look of him, a charmer as well.

"You're chipper," Lori says, practically echoing my thoughts. Even though she's kind of nuts, we do think strikingly alike. Which may be a good thing. Or a terrible thing. I haven't decided which yet. Hopefully she'll stay loyal to me even if she loses all her marbles in the Arena. Or, what little marbles she has left.

"I can't help but be in a good mood. I'm personally living my dream. Aren't you?" We all have to agree with that. Although I have to say, if Neapolitan's the kind of guy to wear his emotions on his sleeves, he's eventually going to break. And if he doesn't do it on his own, I can make him. Or Lori can. Anyone can. Everyone knows that you can have emotions in the Games. That's been the skill I've been trying hardest to work on. I think I've gotten pretty alright at it.

"So, let's take bets. Is Four going to come join us?" Neapolitan asks, not worrying at all about taking the conversation.

"Don't you want to know our names?" I ask.

"Why? I already know them. You're Nebuchadnezzar. And that's Lori."

"Indeed."

"And who's this District One beauty over here?" Lori asks, suddenly shifting the attention to Neapolitan's District partner, who hasn't said a word. Lori steps closer, and I realize that she's going to go into another one of her nervous chatterbox disasters.

"Oh, her? Right, that's-"

"Zuli. I can introduce myself, thank you very much."

"Oh, you're feisty," Lori says, giving a smirk that can only be disgustingly flirty. "I like that."

Zuli squeaks and the tips of her ears turn red as I crease my eyebrows.

"Can you tone it down a bit over there?" I ask. "The Games is no place for romance. I'd be disgusted if there were any couples in the Arena with me, no matter how adorable. Even if they're, I dunno, District partners. No way. Romance and the Games need to stay very separate."

"Aw, don't be like that Nebby! Can I call you Nebby?" Neapolitan smirks and winks, but I just want to punch that annoying bastard in the face.

"No you absolutely cannot call me that!"

"Call him Daddy!" Lori says. "That's what he acts like."

"No! You can't call me Daddy either. None of you can."

"Aw, _please_ Daddy?" Neapolitan asks, widening his eyes. They are pretty, his eyes. Almost as radiantly reflective as his outfit. He's certainly an attractive little bastard. Those are the ones that'll get the sponsors. The ones I have to watch out for.

" _Absolutely_ not. Hell no. Get the thought out of your head right the hell now."

"He's so stubborn," Lori says, and before I can stop her the words continue to run out of her mouth. "He's got this whole name complex where he only accepts his full name like a fucking pretentious shit, but he's a poor kid, not even pretentious or anything. He's got this whole honor thing about him, which is why he freaked the fuck out-"

" _Enough!_ Enough of that." I close my eyes tightly, trying to keep from reliving that scene from the night before. I have my regrets. And I regret having regrets. I don't know how to feel about it, but now's not the time to think about it. "She just talks a lot when she gets-"

"Yeah, I _do_ talk a lot when I get nervous. But man, you know who should be talking? This girl right here." She gestures to Zuli. "Damn, that figure. Can I feel your muscles? C'mon, flex for me. Just a quick squeeze."

The girl from District One couldn't be redder, but Lori eventually convinces her to flex. "Damn, that's what I'm _talking_ about!" she says, "Ten out of ten for you." She keeps gushing over Zuli, and Nea raises an eyebrow at me.

"If she's going for Zuli, she must be _pretty_ desperate. Or not right in the head."

"Probably the latter," I say, snorting. "She always does this when she gets desperate. But it doesn't _mean_ anything."

We both give them another look. Zuli is actually smiling, which she hadn't done for a while before then.

"Well then, let the shit show begin. Let's get some popcorn up in this bitch!" Neapolitan says, grinning.

I swallow and bite my lip. It doesn't mean anything. Zuli should know that, right? Nobody's feelings are _actually_ going to get hurt. Not that I should care if they do. But still… That'd be kind of embarrassing. No, they're both trained Careers. Just playing mind games.

"Y'okay there, _Daddy_?"

"Don't call me Daddy. I told you. You can either call me Nebuchadnezzar or Nez. Maybe Neb. _Never_ Daddy."

Neapolitan laughs. "You can call me whatever the hell you want." He winks and I shake my head. Mind games. That's all it is. Stupid mind games.

"And you can both call me Garrett!" We turn to look at the confident, smirking boy from Four walking towards us. Luckily for his dignity, he changed out of his costume into a black T-shirt and dark pants. Although the sushi was hilarious, it was also pitiful. "Nice to meet ya."

"You too," Neapolitan says.

"So, which one of you is Daddy?" he asks, giving a teasing grin.

" _Neither_ of us," I growl impatiently. Neapolitan and Garrett share a laugh, though.

"You came!" Lori says, looking up. "Wow, part of me was wondering. Like, you have a nice presence, so I was just kind of worried you'd be a dumbass and fruitlessly protect your District partner. But, like, she's so drab, so it's really a good thing that you're here!"

"He."

"I'm sorry? Didn't exactly catch that. It's probably just, y'know, the room-"

" _He_. Ott. My District partner. _He_. _He's_ drab. I mean, he's not actually _that_ drab. Just as an example."

"Oh, I see. Well, that explains why I couldn't tell at first. So, why didn't he just, like, switch sides? Y'know, because… You know."

"He probably had trouble with our District's government. But don't disrespect him or else we will have a problem."

"Alright, fine, my bad. No need to get so heated over it though. But speaking of getting heated…" she winks at Lazuli, who blushes some more. How can someone fake blushing? Mind games… That's all it is.

"Anyways, I know I'll make a good asset to your team!" Garrett says, tapping his foot slightly. "I've trained and I volunteered because I'm ready to prove myself to my District!"

"Aren't we all?" Neapolitan says, and everyone gives a nervous laugh.

"Have you decided on a leader yet?"

"Why do we need a leader?" Neapolitan asks, grabbing his chin to look deep in thought. "We can just run as a democracy. Majority rules." He gives a smirk that indicates that he'll do everything his slimy little ass can do to sway the masses. I'm already suspicious of him. But, I know that I won't be swayed by his dreamy face and deep eyes, and neither will either of the girls by the look of it. So what's the harm?

"Agreed. And if someone just happens to be at the forefront… Then we'll know." Neapolitan gives me a challenging look and I give him a defiant one back. Little does he know that this alliance will function how _I_ want it to, no power struggle needed.

"So, has your District partner done any training?" Lori asks Garrett. "I mean, is this little kid really someone we're going to have to look out for?"

Garrett glances back behind his shoulder, where his District partner is chatting with the tributes from Nine.

"I… Don't underestimate him. I mean, he's trained before. I saw."

This is an interesting: and valuable: new piece of information.

"Is he close to our level?" I ask. Maybe he's some type of prodigy. Maybe there's a reason nobody volunteered for him. After all, why wouldn't anyone that trained want to volunteer? Surely they had to have at least one female ready to go into the Games. What self-respecting "Career" District wouldn't?

"Closer than you think," Garrett says. His eyes glance around the room, never really focusing on one place. He'll make eye contact, then look at the horses, and then look at the floor. He'll examine his hands, twiddle his fingers, and shift his standing position. I feel like this kid has a lot of energy. "But I'm sure he'll probably just, um, get together with some weaker tributes. Although, he'd be a pretty good teammate."

"Let's not count him out yet," Zuli says. I hadn't realized she and Lori re-entered the conversation. "Let's see what he does."

"Agreed," Lori says. "I'd agree with anything you said, you little smartie cutie pants you. Especially in that outfit. Hot _damn!_ "

"Then it's settled," Neapolitan says. "See how nice it is when we all agree?"

 _Oh, it's nice alright,_ I think, _But we'll see how long this lasts. I give it till training. If that._

"Yes, it is nice. But not as nice as this girl's figure!" Lori says, and I resist the urge to facepalm. Does she have any idea where we are? _Mind Games, Nebuchadnezzar. That's all it is. And Lori being an absolute nut._

"Well then, I think we all know what ought to happen. I think I'm going to call it a night. Boys like me need our beauty sleep after all," Neapolitan says.

"I-I'll probably go too, then," Zuli says, clearing her throat. Her eyes don't leave Lori though.

"Well, I'm going where you're going!" Lori says. "Or at least as far as I can go. Because you know, I'm probably not allowed on the District One floor. Y'know, because of the rules or whatever these hotheads say. Rules, rules, rules, so many rules. If only there were this many rules about fashion! Ugh! Then maybe some people would have some taste! Especially my gross prep team! My interview dress better be better than this drab getup…" her voice fades as the trio walks away.

"Are you going to go up, Nebuchadnezzar?" Garrett asks, causing me to look over.

"Me? Well, I suppose. I was just going to get a look at our competition."

"Ah, I see. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. I'll stay with you, then. If that's okay."

"Yes, feel free." I glance at the other tributes, trying to remember their names and Districts. The latter is much easier considering the fact that they're all still wearing their costumes.

"Who do you think the big threats are?" I ask Garrett. I have my list. I guess the reason I'm asking is just to see how he views things.

"Me? Well, I don't know. Hm. I mean, the other Careers are all… Interesting."

"Nuts."

Garrett laughs a bit. "That's one way to put it."

"What about out of everyone else though?"

"Hm…" He gives it some thought. "I noticed the Seven boy immediately. He's a charming bastard." I glance over to where the boy, now free from the hideous pine tree outfit, chats with the nervous-looking girl from District Eight. "Looks pretty strong too." I nod in agreement, and he continues. "His District partner seems like a bit of a nut. Gotta watch out for those ones." I shudder a bit but nod in agreement. The ones that are crazy are also the scariest. "Eleven gave a surprisingly strong boy this year too. Usually those kids are twigs, but not this one."

"He's not exactly macho."

"No, but he shouldn't be underestimated." I find the boy, who is talking with the tributes from District Three.

"What about that Ten boy?"

"Yeah, he's huge. Seems pretty tough too." The boy is nowhere to be found. His District partner is still out and about, talking to the girl from Six.

"That Six girl…"

"Seems like a firecracker. Did you see that scar on her chin?"

"Yes. She's probably a fighter."

"I'd bet on it."

"How about the Three boy?" I ask. "He's got some scars. Looks pretty tough in that get-up."

"He might be a threat. He seems nice, though. Might take the fall for someone else."

I nod. "And the kids?"

Just as the last word leaves my mouth, the girl from Five runs past me, chased by the boy from Eight. Her District partner follows, stopping to catch his breath by us.

"Hi," he says with a smile. "How are ya?"

Is this kid insane?

"Fine," I answer curtly. Ignoring such a hopeful kid would be rude. Garrett seems to have no problem with it, though.

"I'm Ezreal."

"Nebuchadnezzar."

"That's a neat name!"

"I know it is," I grumble. How long is this kid going to risk talking to a Career? Most kids would be pissing their pants. Including his District partner, who looks back to see where he could have possibly gone and goes pale.

"Oh, Turtle looks worried! I should go figure out what's wrong. Bye Nebuchadnezzar! It was nice meeting you!"

Before I have the chance to do anything, he trots off, back towards his District partner.

"Well, that kid has some nerve," Garrett sighs, looking at the horses and looking at his District partner, who is chatting with the boy from Six.

"Sure does," I grunt. "Doesn't change the fact that he's an early death."

"I wouldn't underestimate anyone."

I look over to where the boy covered in lights shows his new friend from Eight a jig he can do, bowing theatrically when he's applauded.

"I… I guess I wouldn't either."

"Well, I think I'm going to head to bed before we're kicked out. I've seen all I need to," he says.

"Yeah," I say quietly. "Me too." Garrett walks to the elevator and I follow him, trying not to look over my shoulder at the kids that are playing games behind us. They're in for a surprise. It's not their fault. But that's just how life is. I can't help but see the sparkly blue eyes smiling up me. I know that look. I see it in my sister when we spar. And my brother when I let him disarm me and think he did it himself. I feel my heart sink to my stomach, and immediately shake the thoughts away. This isn't the time or place for this bullshit.

Garrett and I get in the elevator together and he hits the 2 and the 4.

"Do you ever wonder exactly _what_ you signed yourself up for?" he asks, as we glide up to my floor.

I swallow hard and take a deep breath, trying to keep myself from tensing up. "Of course not. I knew what I was getting into. That's why I got into it. I know what's at stake here." The doors open to my floor and I exit the elevator, trying not to seem tense.

"Yeah," he breathes behind me. "I wonder too."

I'm about to turn around and ask what he's talking about when the doors close and the elevator glides out of sight. I open up my fists, not realizing until now that they were tightly clenched. _God. Way to lose it Nebuchadnezzar._

"There you are," Iona says, sitting with Brutus and Pierrepont. "How was your evening?"

I smile a bit, trying to focus on the applause and roses and not the kids squealing and playing tag afterwards. "It was… Wonderful."

"Thatta boy. Crowd loved you. You got it in the bag," Brutus says, smirking.

 _In the bag._ Everything I wanted. Honor and glory and fame. I can't let some kid get in the way of that.

I can't control the smile that spreads across my face. Can you blame me!? Brutus is a Victor! One of the most formidable in Two's history! And he's putting all his chips in my bag. That has to mean something. I'm on the road to everything I ever wanted. I'm on the road to breaking free of my District's expectations and proving that even a blacksmith's kid can rise to the highest position.

"I'll make sure to continue rallying them."

"Good. Now, go hit the showers. You deserve some rest before your big day tomorrow."

I smile and nod, giving the mentors a brief, "Good night," before going back to the bathroom and shutting the door.

When I turn to the mirror, I look at my reflection, still donned in golden armor, like a warrior. This is what I signed up for. This is who I am now, this is who I am here. I strip off the armor, until I'm left in the maroon slip and Chrys's headpiece. Chrys's headpiece, which I had to fight to wear because it was made slightly uneven. Because it wasn't shiny enough. Wasn't _becoming_ of a man from District Two.

I turn away from my reflection, stripping the rest of the way and taking the headpiece off last. I can hide under the armor. I know I can. If I couldn't, I wouldn't be here. If I can keep Chrys's headpiece on with the armor, I can hold onto a piece of me. I can make it out of the Arena in one piece.

I just can't let me get into my head too much. And I can't let Garrett do it either. Whatever _moment_ he thinks we had won't stop me from taking him out later on. I hope he knows that. I hope it wouldn't stop him either. This isn't the place for this. This isn't the time. The only thing that matters now is winning the Games like I've trained so hard to do.

After all… What could possibly be more important than survival?

What could possibly be more important than Victory?

~.~.

 _ **A/N: Four-day weekend SWAG! So happy to be updating again! Hopefully once I get into a routine for the spring semester I'll get a more regular update schedule. Hope you liked our chariot chapter, and some more insight into Nez and Kaiser! So, let me know what you think and what you want to see more of!**_

 _ **Chapter Question: Some predictions for our Careers? Are they going to grow? Or split? Or survive and cause major chaos? Also, any interactions you'd like to see in training? Any alliance predictions?**_

 _ **Thanks as always for reading! See you next chapter for Twyla and Serena in the first day of training!**_


	9. Pleading

**Training Day One**

-Twyla Frisk, 17, District 7-

 _I'm in some kind of swamp. I don't know where I am, but it's dark, and I can't really see. The air is heavy and humid, hard to breathe._

 _As I walk, I know that this is the Arena. My heart pounds in my chest as I cut through the grass, sweating from the heat. I have no weapons, no backpacks, only myself and my hands. I kept looking around, seeing movement, but nobody was around. It must just be the wind._

 _As I walk, I approach a pond, a pond of water. Quickly, I run towards it, realizing how thirsty I am. With each step, though, the water gets darker and darker. By the time I approach, the water has turned into a pit of boiling, bubbling tar. Tar that's hot fumes wafted into the air, up into my nose. Just as I was walking away, I heard a high-pitched scream I recognized too well._

 _Annie. I turned around and saw her being pushed down in the pond of tar by Harry Openshaw himself. He was grinning at me the way he always used to that made me feel safe as he pushed her head down into the pit._

" _Twyla!" she shouted. I tried to move closer and save her, I tried to run forward, I tried to yell at Harry to let her go, but my voice didn't work. All I could do was stand there and watch it happen. I was paralyzed in shock and fear-_

"Twyla honey, it's time to wake up!"

I sit straight up, spooked by the voice, shocked by my dream, and hiccupping with sobs that much have started while I was asleep. I never cry when I'm awake, but when I'm asleep? All the time.

The lamp on my nightstand clicks on and I see the face of my escort looking in. "Oh my, are you alright?" She frowns in concern at seeing my face.

I sniffle and wipe my eyes, angry that she would see me like this. My step-father didn't rig me in like I had once thought, so... She was the one that chose my name. I wasn't going to get so close to her, even though she was trying to get close to me. She wasn't my mother. My mother was back home. She was back home, and she was safe with Maddox. And Bard, I guess.

No. Nobody back home was safe. Harry Openshaw is a murderer and he's still out there, acting innocent. Nobody has any idea that he _killed_ my _sister_! He will continue to take lives if I can't get home and prove his guilt!

I squeeze my eyes shut, angry that more tears were going to fall. I could not stand to go out to breakfast with red eyes.

"I'm fine. Leave me alone."

Jadea frowned, and wordlessly came in, which made my skin crawl. "I said I'm fine!" I say, making sure she knows by the tone of my voice that I'm not messing around.

"I know," she said quietly. "I'll leave you be." She placed the box of tissues that had been on my dresser on the small table next to my bed, and left without another word.

That was nice of her... I can't say I'm not thankful as I reach over to blow my nose and dry my eyes before rolling out of bed. I'm exhausted, but now is the worst time to be exhausted. If only I'd stop having so many nightmares. They weren't helping anything and they were only draining me of all my energy.

I begrudgingly get out of bed and wash my face to get more energized. It doesn't feel normal to be in this bright, shiny clean, tiled bathroom, with a shiny toilet and a spotless sink that had enough water pressure to shoot water across the room. The shower with so many fixtures and buttons, technology that dried my body and hair, without tangles. I remembered the many, many nights that I would have to sit on the floor after a bath and mother would have to drag that tiny, shoddy comb through my thick jungle of hair. I always hated it so much. She would pull and it would hurt, and she would always apologize but the snarls just got that bad. It was such a tedious process. I remember Annie sitting on her bed and watching, making comments when I would complain about it.

Here, it was as easy as a zap and it was done.

I put on the training outfit that had been laid out in my closet the previous night, and go out to the kitchen for breakfast.

In all my life, I've never seen breakfast so decadent. The pancakes here have different _things_ in them. Some have blueberries, some have bananas and strawberries, and some even have chocolate in them! Some have bacon and ham pieces in them too!

And oh, the full pieces of bacon and sausage on the table. They looked so thick and juicy, I had to take two pieces of each. Harry Openshaw can't poison my food and hurt me here. But he can hurt my mother. I have to save her and all the other kids in the District from him. That's why I have to get home.

"Don't eat too much breakfast now," Blight says, his voice slightly quiet and shy. It's quite a contrast to his mentoring partner Katsuji, whose feet were up on the table and had a smirk on his face. God, no wonder he was put with Walden. They were birds of a feather.

"Nah, gorge out. You need to put on a couple pounds before the Games."

"But you can't be throwing up breakfast at the training center," Blight said.

"Nah, just aim at a Career if it comes back up." Katsuji laughed loudly at his so-called humor.

"I'm glad you're enjoying our Capitol's wonderful food, Twyla," Jadea said calmly.

"See? She's on my side!" Katsuji said.

"I didn't say that," Jadea said.

"Puke on a Career! What other training strategy do you need?"

"She needs to learn as much as she can-"

"I need to tell everyone Harry Openshaw is a fucking murderer," I say, looking at them all earnestly. I've been trying and trying to tell them, to make them understand that this is serious. He KILLED my SISTER! He can't go unpunished! Just seeing his smirking face in the Justice Building fills me with rage. And the fact that Blight is giving an exasperated sigh, that Katsuji is still smirking, that Jadea is still smiling slightly, makes me even more angry.

"He killed my sister and he's going to kill my mother! He's a MURDRER AND HE'S RUNNING FREE!"

"God, this nonsense again?" Everyone looks up at the sound of my District partner's voice.

"IT'S NOT NONSENSE!" I yell at him. How dare he insinuate that Annie's death is just nonsense that doesn't even matter. The fact that a MURDERER is running around our DISTRICT! He must be punished for what he's done!

"Geeez, calm down Sugarplum. You're much prettier when you're docile. And since you don't have a _glowing personality_ or any talents, and since you definitely won't find anyone willing to ally with your sob story, that's what you're depending on."

" _DON'T_ CALL ME SUGARPLUM!"

"Boy, you better hope your dress is low-cut for interviews. Then they'll all be distracted and won't even hear your sour attitude." He takes two pancakes and sits next to Katsuji.

"Walden, stop being so rude to Twyla," Jadea says sternly.

"Yeah, like I'd listen to _you_ ," Walden retorts, rolling his eyes. "Just do what you do best and sit there and smile, okay? Wouldn't want to see Blight or Katsuji need to put you in your place."

Jadea's eyes are angry, but her demeanor stays calm. I just can't stay calm though. Jadea is the only person that's truly been nice to me since arriving to the Capitol, and the thought of the mentors being better than her because they have dicks sets me right the hell off.

"YOU'RE THE ONE THAT NEEDS TO SIT THERE AND SHUT THE FUCK UP!" I yell, clenching my fists to keep from attacking him. "Just shut up!" I shout at him. His smirking face reminds me of Harry and I want to punch it so badly. He's made a mockery of my sister's death and now he's being a misogynistic asshat to the nicest person I've met so far! I will not stand for that! "YOU CANNOT SILENCE US!"

Walden still looks relaxed, and it makes me even more angry. Why isn't he getting angry!? Is he even listening to me?! Finally, after his eyes scan me from head to toe in a way that makes me want to shiver and hide in a blanket, he speaks.

"Yeah, you better hope your interview outfit is sheer, if you want to distract them from your incessant childish yelling. You women and your fucking annoying emotions. God."

The comment fills me up with even more rage. I lunge across the room towards him, not able to control my anger any longer. "I'LL SHOW YOU FUCKING ANNOYING!" I shout at him, but before I can reach him I'm swept off the ground by a laughing Katsuji.

"Wowza, you're a spitfire!" he says.

"It's not funny Katsuji," Jadea scolds, frowning and looking sad.

"Oh, no, I hurt the women's _feelings_ ," Walden said, rolling his eyes. "Just grow a pair and man up, okay? You're going to die in the bloodbath if you can't just grow up."

I clench my fists harder, just dying to show him how hard a girl can punch, when Jadea stands up. "Twyla, are you finished eating?"

"Yeah, I lost my appetite," I say, scowling.

"Let's go to the living room then," she says, smiling at me as much as she can. "Come on." She walks out of the dining area and I gratefully follow. Blight soon comes behind us. Unfortunately, there are no walls between the two, so we can still hear Walden and Katsuji whispering and snickering together. Each time I hear them laughing, I get angrier and angrier.

"Just stay calm," Jadea says quietly. "You'll get your time to show him who's boss."

Her voice doesn't calm me much, but soon she stands up. "It's time for both of you to get down to training," she says. "We don't want to be late."

"Yeah, we should go," Katsuji said, which is what finally made Walden get up.

The ride in the elevator is quiet, but I would far rather have it be quiet than have to listen to my asshole District partner say one more word. We're the first District downstairs that isn't one of the three Careers. They stand in a big group and talk amongst themselves, grinning like they're having the time of their lives. They're excited to murder, just like Harry Openshaw was. The thought fills me with rage, but I keep quiet.

It's not long before the other Districts start to file in. Walden eyes each one as they enter, but I don't look at any of them. Don't want them thinking I'll be there to ally with. Then again... Even if I die, one of these people won't die. Maybe if I tell each and every one the truth, it'll be carried on even if I die! Yes, that has to work! I'll have to make sure they all know, so that if I go they can carry on the torch of justice for me.

The Capitolite woman gets our attention and tells us the rules, one of which is (sadly) that you can't fight other tributes until the Games. Then, she releases to begin training.

I know that Blight said I should try to learn, and I do intend to do that. I'm the only child my mother has left that has my father's blood. I have to win, so that I can see Harry Openshaw suffer and die like he deserves.

The Careers, still smirking, saunter straight to the weapons stations. I watch the other tributes disperse and am left standing, wondering who to approach first. There are three days of training, and twenty-four tributes. I already know, and Walden has been told. That leaves twenty-two left. Which means I'll have to tell seven for two days, and eight for one day. I should get the eight done today, then the other two will both be seven.

I take a deep breath. Talking to people has never been a hobby of mine, and the more I think about actually doing that, the more I want to give up. But if my going to talk to someone is the reason Harry Openshaw gets the death penalty, it will be worth it.

I just have to remember to balance my talking with learning. If I ever want to survive, I'm going to need these skills.

I decide to start easy. Usually I would abhor starting with something as natural to me as plant identification, but I need something to calm my nerves about talking to so many new people. New people that might expect me to trust them, or try to talk about something I don't like or care about. Annie was shy like me, we didn't make many friends together.

I find that identifying plants is less natural than I thought it would be. I know a lot about trees, but when it comes to bushes and edible plants I'm less knowledgeable. Luckily for me, memorizing is easy. I scroll through the flashcards and commit the colors, shapes, and sizes of the various fruits to memory. It takes a while, but it's a process that calms me. Probably because it's a productive distraction from what I'll have to do. I keep working at the test, learning plants by the tens at a time. There are hundreds and hundreds of different plants to learn. I could easily see how someone could spend all three of their days here.

A girl comes up beside me and I feel myself get tense. I keep staring at the leaves and berries on my screen, trying not to stare at her. I forget where she's from, but she couldn't be less intimidating. Maybe she's a good one to start out with.

I look over at her as she starts the pre-test. She isn't too bad at it, considering it's her first time taking it blind. I wait for her to finish, the score of 30% flashing on the screen, before I approach. My hands and arms shake as I tap her quickly on the shoulder, pulling my finger away. The girl jumps and turns to me with wide, shocked eyes. When she jumps, I jump.

"HELLO." I say, trying to sound friendly. Surely if I talk loudly she'll see that I'm being friendly, right...?

The girl seems to sink into the ground, leaning back, away from me. "Hi..." she says, so quietly I barely even hear her.

"TWYLA. FRISK. THAT IS ME NAME. MY NAME. I TRIED TO SAY ME, AND MY NAME, AND IT BECAME ME NAME. HA. THAT'S FUNNY RIGHT?" I offer her a big smile.

The girl doesn't smile though. She still looks afraid.

"WHAT IS YOU NAME? GET IT? BECAUSE I SAID ME NAME?" I laugh, but nothing seems to be working on her.

"M...Melanie," she says, still mumbling.

"NICE TO MEET YOU."

Melanie doesn't respond, just gives a shy nod. Okay, maybe I need to do something different. I speak quieter when I talk next. Maybe if I match her level of quiet, she'll be more inclined to listen to what I'm saying.

"So, I just wanted you to know that if I die, my last dying wish is that you tell Panem that Harry Openshaw from District Seven is a murderer. Okay?" I smile at her, and she stares at me with wide gray eyes.

"That's Harry Openshaw. Haaaaaarry Ooooopenshaw. And he's a fucking murderer that's going to come after my mom next. Got it?"

Melanie's mouth is slightly agape, and she seems to be shaking a little bit (yeah, the Center sure is cold). After a short moment, she quickly nods her head. Probably making sure his name was definitely in her memory.

"Great. Thanks. Enjoy training," I whisper in her same tone of voice, giving her another smile and going to another station.

That had a rough start, but I really think it turned out well. This wouldn't be so bad. I'm doing it for Annie.

I decide to approach another younger tribute, as the last one ended up so well. I guess I can really relate to those kids. I head to the trap station, but just as I approach, the young boy that was there gets up and walks away. _Dammit_. Oh well. Trap-making is something that is probably helpful, so I decide to hang out there and see who else I can tell about fucking Harry and his guilt.

The lady at the station seems happy that her station isn't empty. She gives me a lot of one-on-one attention, and shows me different tricks I'll be able to use if need be. She's saying so much that sometimes it's hard to comprehend, but when I ask her to repeat things it usually sticks the second time. I have to hold on to as much knowledge as I can if I want to get back home to my mother, and protect her.

After a while of learning from the shelter lady and working hard to replicate her sturdy natural shelters, someone else approaches the station. It's a boy this time, from a middle District I think. Six. The boy from Eight is younger, I think. And the boy from Seven is a fucking ho.

"Welcome!" the traps lady says, smiling.

"YES. WELCOME!" I say, louder than her to show that I am friendlier.

"Hi." His voice has no expression at all. Alright, I can match that!

"Twyla. That's me. Who are you?"

His eyebrows crease before responding. "Klaus Aerglo. District Six."

"Hi Klaus Aerglo," I say, keeping my voice just as flat as his.

"That's a pretty okay shelter," he says.

I glance down at the hut I'd just made. "Thanks. Harry Openshaw is a fucking murderer."

He gives me a look. "I'm sorry?"

"Haaaaarry. Oooopenshaw. District Seven. He's a murderer and if I die it's your job to bring justice. Please and thank you."

"Um..."

"Harry Openshaw. Harry Openshaw is a murderer. Got it?"

"Okay?"

"Good. Please and thank you."

Smiling to myself, I listen to the lady as she tells me my next step and goes to help Klaus learn the basics. This is going wonderfully! Once I'm satisfied with my work, I get up to go, and conveniently run into the boy from Eight on the way.

"HELLO BOY FROM EIGHT! HERE!" He turns around at hearing my voice, and jumps when he sees how I've caught up to him.

"Um... hello..." he says, biting his lip. Another quiet one. I can match that!

"Um... I am Twyla. Who, um who are you?"

The boy frowns a little. "I'm Savile. Or Sav."

"Hi Savile or Sav. How are you feeling today?"

"Um, I'm okay. Focused on training."

"Oh, um, okay," I mumble. I am nailing this! "I'll let you get back to it, but first. Harry Openshaw is a goddamn murderer."

He starts wringing his hands together, frowning, probably out of sympathy. "Who?"

"Harry Openshaw, District Seven. Harry Openshaw. Harry Openshaw. Haaarry Ooopenshaw. He's a murderer and if I die you need to take him to justice."

Sav leans back a little bit, not saying anything. He's scared of Harry, I just know it.

"You can take him to justice if you win, don't be scared. He's scary, but you'll be able to take him down. Harry Openshaw. District Seven. Alright?"

Sav pauses but then nodded a little. I smile at him. "Great. You're a gem. Enjoy the shelters station!" I smile and stand in the center of the room, looking at all the different stations and trying to decide where I want to go next. I'm really on a roll here! I think I can take some time to focus on other stations.

I go to the climbing station, which I find I'm not very good at. Even though I'm from District Seven, I never really climbed trees. Annie hated the idea of climbing a tree, and my mother always said it was dangerous. Trees were meant to be cut down, not climbed up. _Messing around could get you shot by the Peacekeepers_ , she said. Maddox and his son were shocked that I had never climbed one. He said it would be a fun dad thing for us to do together. Of course at the time I abhorred the idea. Now I wish I hadn't.

The man at the station tries to give me advice about how to be quicker and more agile. He started me off on the rock course with giant rocks, and even then I still get clammy getting to the top. I have a harness attached, but in the Arena I won't have that safety. I focus on his advice the best I can. It's tiring to say the least, and I'm glad there are water bottles at the station for us to use. After working so long I could already feel the soreness in my legs and arms the next morning, I feel a lot more comfortable climbing. I even learned how to climb on the tree wall!

The next station I decide to check out is the station for axes. Surprisingly, it's empty. I would think there'd be a Career here, but they seem to be staying together. For now, anyways. This is a skill I'm more adept to using. I had to use these weapons to cut trees, so I have the strength to hoist the axe and swing it with power and meaningful direction. I have never thrown one, so I decide to ask the trainer to help me learn how. That could easily deal a lot of damage, and really help me to get home.

Before I know it, the lunch bell rings. Lunch already? Wow, this time was going by really fast. It's almost like someone was describing my actions while being too lazy to research anything about those actions and just left a vague description in place of actual detail.

I hadn't realized how hungry I was until I was standing in line and taking practically forever to get to the buffet of food. Melanie, who I now see is from 12 thanks to the large number on her back, is in line in front of me, but I have no desire to talk to her again. She just needs to pass on Harry Openshaw's guilt if I go and she lives. I don't want to be her friend or anything.

Melanie makes eye contact with me as she picks out a plate.

"Harry Openshaw," I say to her, just in case she forgot. I give her a wink as she turns around and goes to the salad station. I pile my plate high with meat and potatoes, because I can.

I know that lunch is a great time to talk to tributes, and there are lots of big groups to spread the word quickly, but I don't want to talk to anyone right now... I just want to eat.

The Careers have a table of their own. The tributes from Five sit together, and the tributes from Ten are sitting together at another table. My District partner is talking to a girl that must be as terrible as he is, I forget where she's from. Melanie ends up sitting with another young girl, I think from Eleven, and gives me a glance. I hope she's telling her about Harry Openshaw.

I decide to find a table by myself, so I can recollect my energy before continuing to train. I only need to talk to five more people today to reach my goal! I can do that...

A tray is set down in front of me and I jump, looking surprised. In front of me is a small girl with straight brown hair and intense, dark eyes.

"Hello!" she says. "Can I sit here?"

 _Make that four._

"SURE." I say. I remember her. It's hard not to remember the only twelve-year-old that was reaped. can't remember her name, but I can see the giant nine on her jacket indicating her District.

"Zuzanna Heeler, but you can call me Zu. You're Twyla, right?"

Wow. Color me impressed. "That's me."

"I saw you were talking to a lot of other tributes. If you're making an alliance I'd like in. I know you're an older tribute and I'm the youngest one here, but I have plenty to offer. I'm not going to die on the first day just because I'm the youngest, I can promise you that. So, what do you say? I can be a valuable asset to your group."

I blink at her. Short, sweet, and to the point. I can respect that. I suppose I should pay her the same respect. "No, frankly I'm not interested in an alliance. I'm only interested in letting everyone know that Harry Openshaw is a murderer."

Zu blinks. "Um... Who?"

"Harry Openshaw, District Seven. Harry Openshaw is his name. He's a murderer. You seem capable. Like a plate with little ears and an animal face on it, you are my Zu Pal. If you get out alive you have to tell everyone that Harry Openshaw is a fucking murderer. Harry Openshaw. Haaarry Ooopenshaw. He's a murderer."

"If you don't have another ally, perhaps we could still team up! I can show you what I can do-"

"I'm sorry Zu, but I'm not here for that friend life. I'm here for justice."

Zu frowned. "I think you're missing out. But enjoy the rest of your training."

"Harry Openshaw," I say, one more time as she takes her tray and goes to talk to the girl from Three. Four down, four left to go today. This is going wonderfully!

After lunch, I head back to the plants station. I want to test what I remember from this morning, and there's another young, approachable tribute there. Plus, since I already met Melanie, I'd have the perfect segue into normal conversation!

I notice from behind that one streak of her hair is stark white. It's surprising to see the 11 on her training uniform. However, she proves her roots by scoring a 70% on her first go of the berries test.

"WOW! SEVENTY. GREAT SCORE."

She turns around, a small smile on her face. She almost looks proud.

"MELANIE GOT THIRTY WHEN SHE TRIED. I ONLY GOT TWO RIGHT, I GOT TWENTY PERCENT."

"I like to learn," she said, smiling shyly. "My District only carries books about agriculture in its library. Very scarcely do I see a book about something other than berries and plants."

She speaks quietly as well, but with dignity. Alright, I can do that. "Ah, I am now enlightened as to the reason why you have such profound knowledge of these edible specimens. Anyways, I haven't introduced myself. My name is Twyla Frisk. A profound pleasure to make your acquaintance."

The girl blinks at me (that must be a polite gesture, as I've seen it a lot lately). "Brialle Crescent. Pleasure."

"I don't know if your friend Melanie has informed you, but I am spreading awareness to a crucial issue. Harry Openshaw is a fucking murderer."

"Oh, um that's very... Just of you?" her voice inflects up as if she's asking a question.

"If I fall to the Games, please carry my final request in your heart: bring Harry Openshaw, District Seven, to justice. Harry Openshaw, District Seven. Haaarry. Oooopenshaw. Will you?"

Brialle gives me a small smile, probably to hide the sadness of the situation. "Of course."

"Great. Thanks! I mean... I humbly and gratefully thank you. Harry Openshaw." I wink at her and go back to my test.

 _Five down, only three more to go._

I study up on the most important berries that have slipped my mind for a while. It's a tedious process, but necessary. I stay there, focused on the berries in front of me, until my brain is exhausted and my eyes can't stand to look at the screens anymore. Then, I go back to the axes station. It's probably better to master this one weapon. I still haven't gotten a really good throw, and now that my stomach is settled from lunch I feel energized, ready to try again.

The man at the station is with another tribute, who has a big 6 on their back. If I hadn't talked to Klaus already, I would be wondering if this was the male or female tribute. She doesn't look very nice, so I think I should just get this over with. Hopefully she'll be sensitive to my predicament.

I start practicing my grip and do some mock-throws a the instructor shows her the basics. Soon, she's swinging the axe around, and the instructor watches me throw a couple times. Brialle comes around to learn how to wield a smaller axe, which gives me my chance.

"HELLO." I say. "YOU'RE DOING WELL WITH THAT."

"You're not an instructor," she says, matter-of-factly.

"I've used an axe every day for two or three years," I return with a blunt tone.

"Well... Thanks," she says gruffly, turning around to focus on swinging the weapon. I throw another one that almost sticks where I want it to.

"I'm just going to cut to the chase. Harry Openshaw is a murderer. Harry Openshaw of District Seven. He's a murderer and if I die it's your job to make sure he does too."

"Who?"

"Harry Openshaw. Harry Openshaw is his name."

"Harry Openshaw. This world is fucked." Healy turned away, ending the conversation and swinging her axe some more. She was gruff and blunt, but as long as she carried the flag of justice if I couldn't hold it any longer.

I continue to throw axes throughout the afternoon. I throw and throw until my arm feels like a noodle and my throws start to get worse and worse. I would have to find something else to do while my arms and core muscles found the energy to continue going on. Who knew training would be such a strenuous work out?

This time, I decide to go to the fire station. How hard can it be to start a fire? The boy from Twelve was sitting over a bright one.

"Tada!" he says as I approach, looking at the girl from Four. The boy from Twelve does jazz hands, which causes the girl from Four to laugh and... Is that an unironic chef kiss? God, people that do that should be shocked out of the habit.

"Now you try!" The Twelve boy says, grinning, as the trainer extinguishes the flame. The loud noise of the extinguisher takes his attention, then he looks up at the lights in the training center before his eyes lock on me. "Oh, hello!"

"Hi!" the girl from Four says.

"Hello!" I say, trying to mimic their enthusiasm. They'll probably only listen to someone as energetic as them.

"I'm Bean!" the boy from Twelve says, smiling. "I'm from Twelve and I use he/him pronouns!"

"Pleased to meet you!" Ott says. "I'm Ott and I use he/him pronouns."

I immediately feel embarrassed for assuming.

"Hello! I am happy happy happy to meet you both! So happy! I am Twyla from Seven, and I use she/her pronouns."

"Are you here to learn fire-building?" Bean asks. "It seems hard at first, but once you do it once you'll be a pro!"

"I haven't done it once yet," Ott says, blowing the hair out of h-is eyes and making a pouty face. I also make a pouty face. Maybe they want to listen to someone pouty.

"I haven't either," I say.

"Come on then, take a seat," the instructor says with a kind smile. I sit down.

"You can do it Ott!" Bean says, as the Four tribute starts rapidly turning the stick he's pressing into a slab of wood.

"You know what else you both can do?"

Bean looks over. "Huh?"

"Tell the world that Harry Openshaw is a fucking murderer if I die."

Ott stops turning the stick. "Huh?"

"Harry Openshaw, District Seven. Harry Openshaw. Harry Openshaw. Haaaarry. Ooopenshaw. Is a fucking murderer. If I die, my last wish is that he be taken to justice, so if you get out you must!"

Ott frowned a bit, and Bean pursed his lips.

"Um..."

"Tell me you will! Harry Openshaw! Murderer!"

"Okay, we will," Ott said, glancing at Bean, who gave him a look.

"Thanks guys!" I say, smiling as I look to the instructor to teach me what to do.

Eight people down already, and it had gone so smoothly. The rest of these training days were going to be a breeze.

~.~.

-Serena Merlo, 16, District 8-

It was another night riddled with sadness. The kind of sadness that exhausts you, but weighs down so much, makes it so hard to move, makes my stomach turn and hurt, that falling asleep is impossible. The kind of sadness where the fear of nightmares kept me awake. My mind was attacking me. The tears would pour out of my eyes, and just as I thought I was going to calm down, just as I was sure I was exhausted, closing my eyes and trying to doze off, the fist around my stomach would squeeze more tears right out.

I was awake to see three thirty. I'm not used to running on this little sleep, but I can't help it. I wish I could do some kind of yoga pose that would just shut down the anxiety that swirls around my head, but I can't help it.

I always imagined that I would just wait, be safe and quiet about what was important to me, just until I was away from my parents, just until I could finally live to be who I am without the fear of being yelled at. I was willing to wait until they were on their deathbeds, knowing that I would never escape them. Being yelled at, scolded, having people trying to change me with force was such a scary thought that I would wait until I was forty to finally start talking.

Now I may not even make it to seventeen. I probably won't.

Usually coming to the Games gives people a renewed love of life, but I'm just not feeling it. Being reaped has just sealed my fate. There's no way I'm going to overpower the rest of these tributes. They're trained, they're strong, and they'll just kill me first because I'm not a good runner. If anything, these Games have made me lose all drive to even put up a fight. Maybe it would just be easier for me to fall asleep and not wake up. Isn't that basically what I've been doing anyways? Living a lie, living two lives, never able to introduce one to the other. Never able to be one Serena. Never able to have beliefs and stand up for them. The world's problems are just so confusing. I don't know the best way to solve everything, I don't know what I believe. Even when I try, it's just too confusing with so many different sides.

If I got home, my parents and Walker would move in with me. Even if I were to try and stand up to them, they'd find a way to win. They're older, more experienced, smarter to me. I could never defeat them in any kind of battle, even as a Victor. Vance would want to talk to me again. I know that he still wants to wait for me... Even though there's just no way we could be together...

We can't date secretly, because I can't lie. Just the thought of lying to my parents makes my stomach bubble. I would never enjoy being with him, because I would be constantly paranoid that we'd be caught. Someone would see us, and tell someone that would tell someone that would tell someone that would tell someone as my parents overheard. Or someone would tell them. They always find out. Breaking the rules always leads to trouble, it's just a question of how long I can keep it from them. I can't make a lie. The guilt would eat away at me.

Not that it isn't already, of course. It wasn't an easy thing to do. It wasn't easy to break his heart, because mine was being broken too. We were two people that liked each other, had great chemistry and wanted to be together. But couldn't. It wasn't the right time. Or place.

I feel terrible. I feel the same about him and he knows it. He doesn't understand why I can't just break away like he did. I'm not strong like he is. I'm a coward and I'm afraid and I don't even know where to start. I'm trapped. He doesn't understand why I had to break both of our hearts, even though I felt the same. He didn't understand why I couldn't just sneak around behind their backs and be okay with that. He never understood why I got so guilty and paranoid all the time. I doubt he ever will.

I knew he didn't understand, and he was upset about it, maybe a little bit angry. He didn't understand how two hearts that beat in time couldn't be together. He didn't understand how miserable our relationship would have made me, how tense, how guilty, how anxious and paranoid. His face would forever make me feel that fear and guilt. It already does, but to a lesser degree.

Sometimes I wonder if it was selfish of me to tell him no. If I really liked him that much, I would be ready to do anything for him, right? Even if it meant throwing myself into danger, or unfamiliar territory. Maybe it wasn't fair of me to leave him like that. Is it selfish to look out for myself like that? If I was what he deserved, I would be completely selfless with my love. Anything to keep his eyes from welling up with tears. But I just couldn't. I'm too big of a coward. I'm too afraid to date and love someone that isn't cis. I could never bring him home, because he doesn't pass. God, that's so insensitive of me! So selfish! I'm sure he's secretly really mad at me in his heart. I'm just the kind of people my friends wish death upon every day. Someone that can't look past a person's body parts and voice.

I mean... No, it's not that I don't acknowledge his manhood. He's a man, from head to toe, breasts and all. And he's a wonderful man. But... My parents could never meet him. They would say terrible things. They would never let me talk to him again. They would scold me for getting involved in that crowd. I'm not ready for them to yell all those things at me. I still have to focus on my work, on my studies. I just can't afford to have them know. Is that selfish? I suppose it is. I should just jump in and take the hit for him. I'm sure that's what he would have done for me... That's what love is, right? Surrendering yourself, your everything to someone else's happiness, no matter what? The selfless, kind love that I always dreamed about giving to someone... Putting them first, doing things for them and always being there for them... I just couldn't provide that for Vance. Only because I'm afraid of judgment... Judgment that he has to face every day because he can't hide like I can... He doesn't have that privilege... He doesn't...

I'm awakened by a gentle pressure shaking my shoulder. Damn, I just laid my head down for a second after lunch... I must have drifted off... Well, not fully drifted off, my brain was still teeming with sad and anxious thoughts, not nightmares. I guess I just existed in half-sleep.

"Sav...?" I ask, blinking. My District partner wanted to be mentored separately. They seemed shy to ask, but obviously seemed uncomfortable to be my ally. I don't blame them. I never said what happened with me and Vance, but maybe they heard about it, or maybe they just got the vibe from me that I'm insensitive and prejudiced, just like the people that raised me, and just can't seem to escape from it.

"Eh?"

I blink a few times and reach up to rub my eyes. The person standing over me wasn't my District partner at all. It was a boy I hadn't really talked to. I had noticed him at stations near me, but didn't think much of it.

"Hello..." I say, rubbing my eyes.

"Sorry for startling you. I just thought you might not want to doze through the rest of your day." He gives me a slightly teasing smile.

"Oh, right." I force a small laugh. It's not his fault that I'm so upset all the time, so I should try to be happy around him, not take it out on him. "Thank you."

"Having trouble sleeping? I am too." He starts walking back out to the Center from the cafeteria, and I follow him.

"Y-Yeah," I say, trying to keep the smile on. "It's just been a whirlwind of a few days."

"I get that," he says, brown eyes looking soft. "I'm sure everyone can say the same. For better or worse." His gaze flickers to the weapons stations, where the Careers are training together.

"Mhm," I say, taking a deep breath to try and keep the sadness back. I've learned that I can never make it go away, but I can sometimes I can push it back, make it feel a little less heavy. Sometimes.

"I'm Walden by the way. Walden Whitmore. District Seven."

"Serena Merlo, District Eight. Nice to-" I hold up a finger to signify one second and yawn- "meet you."

"You too. I've noticed you're collecting a lot of survival skills."

"Oh, um..." I bite back another yawn. "I just hope I'm able to remember everything they're telling me. I've been having a little trouble getting in the groove of training," I say, feeling embarrassed. I'm never going to remember so much information. I just can't see any realistic way I'm going to get out of these Games alive.

"I've been doing a lot of physical skills, fighting and such. But I'm not the best survivalist, so I need a good one."

"I hope you find one," I say, smiling. He really doesn't need to remind me how poor my skills are... It's not his fault of course...

He laughs a little, and I feel a little hurt, offended by it. Usually when people laugh it's at me, not with me. "You don't understand. I was implying that you should travel with me."

My heart picks up, in shock. "Me?! B-But... I'm not sure if I'll even be any help..."

"I'm sure you'll be plenty of help."

"I-Is this a joke?" I bite my lip. I've been asked out by a guy just as attractive as this guy: pretty much all the announcers commented that this Walden was certainly a looker, and I agree: but it was just a silly joke, or on a dare, or just because they always wanted to sleep with someone of my ancestry.

"Nope. No joke. I think we'd make a good team. What do you say?"

I smile, the first genuine smile I've felt on my face in days. "I would love to team up with you. But only if you lead."

His smile turns into a bit of a smirk. Probably just because he's confident... I hope... "Oh, I'll definitely take the leadership position. How about you go learn how to make a fire? By the time I get back you should feel confident that you can teach me, okay?"

I nod. That sounds alright. "Okay."

Walden smiles at me again, a kind smile that I return genuinely. He goes to work on his knife skills and I go to the fire station. I pay attention to what the trainer says and this time, push away all my sadness and anxiety. It's definitely still present, but I don't have to focus on it, instead I can listen to what she says and do as she demonstrates.

It's funny. Maybe an ally is the thing I really needed to motivate me. Now that Walden and I are a team, I'm going to do everything I possibly can to carry my weight. I'm going to work harder than I did to pick up the slack so that I can be useful to him. Now that I have some brawn, maybe I have a chance! Maybe I actually have a chance...

I get a spark, and after some more instruction, the leaves and twigs burst into flames. Feeling the warmth of the firelight, smelling the smoke, looking into the brightness, feels just like a metaphor. A new fire has been lit inside of me.

.

Stafford is the one that does most of the talking at dinner. It's delicious barbecue chicken, with homemade potato chips and other sides that I stacked high on my plate.

I still feel sad, but having an ally that wanted me makes me feel so much better. Even if I go out, at least it won't be on the first day...

"So, what did you both do?" Stafford asks bluntly. "Hopefully something useful."

"You don't have to say around each other if you don't want," Sav's mentor Patrick speaks up. He looks stern, but compassionate. I always wondered what my life would have been like if he were my father. I always feel terrible for having these thoughts, but I can't really help them. I just wish I knew what it was like to have a father that I didn't fear as much as I loved. I envy those who aren't afraid of their parents. I hope my children never fear me. I hope they obey my rules out of respect. If I even ever have kids. I know my parents want grandchildren, but I don't know what I want... I don't even know who I'll marry... I don't even know if I'll live to see September.

"I don't mind," Sav says quietly. "She could see me all day anyways. We both worked a little bit at the edible bugs station." I smile at them. Even though they didn't want to ally with me, I still want to be on good terms with my District partner. "I focused on survival techniques today. I want to prioritize what's most important. I didn't talk to a lot of people because I wanted to learn and focus on that. I hope to talk to more people tomorrow... Although... Were you ever approached by the girl from Seven?"

My eyebrows crease. I wasn't, so I shake my head in response. "Why?"

"I had a strange encounter with her, that's all. Something about some person she knows being a murderer? I don't know, she seems a little..." they trailed off, not sure an appropriate word to use.

"Off her rocker?" Cecelia asks.

"Batshit," Stafford says.

"One of those," Sav says quietly.

"I heard her shouting this morning, now that I think about it," I say. I was pretty out of it, but her shouting did keep me up for a little bit.

"Apparently she's been making her rounds."

"She's definitely going to have an interesting interview," Patrick says.

"I hope that she can say whatever she wants to say then," Sav says. "She seemed crazy, but also... Desperate. Troubled."

"We're all troubled," I say quietly, immediately feeling bad for bringing the conversation to such a grim place. Nobody responds after that. I don't blame them. How do you even respond to that?

"Do you think you learned a lot?" Patrick asks, after a prolonged silence.

Sav nods. "I got a lot of basic knowledge today. I hope to expand on it tomorrow."

"Well you're gonna need more than just raw knowledge to get out alive," Stafford says, pouring herself a glass of champagne. "You're gonna have to have skills."

"I'll work on building them," Sav says respectfully.

"How bout you, girl?" Stafford asks, raising her eyebrow as the attention focuses on me. I hate having a lot of attention... I just feel like I'm wasting everyone's time. After all, I'm just me... I don't really have anything of note to provide for anyone... I just like to exist in the background so I don't waste anyone's time or make them angry.

"M-Me... Oh, I just spent time at survival," I say. I debate whether I should tell them about Walden or just wait and tell Cecelia when we're alone. But I really want Sav to be my friend in the Games, even if they're not my ally. We never mentioned keeping it a secret... But what if... Oh... I hope Walden won't be mad... "I found an ally today."

The mentors both look surprised.

"That was fast," Cecelia says, smiling. "That's good."

"Who wanted to be your ally?" Stafford asks.

"Um, Walden, from District Seven."

The mentors, and Sav, look surprised.

"You mean..."

"That's very good Serena," Cecelia said, smiling slightly. "Did you approach him?"

"No, um, he approached me." I smile slightly at their surprise. Of course they would be surprised that such an attractive tribute with a good chance would approach someone that is such a mess like me. I was surprised too. "He wanted someone with a lot of survival knowledge."

"Interesting..." Patrick looks thoughtful.

"That doesn't seem promising," Stafford says.

Sharp hurt pierces my chest at the comment. I look over at my escort. "What makes you say that?"

"A tribute like that, taking you in without your proving your skills? Either that boy is going to make you die for him, or he's so nice he'll never be able to protect you."

"Walden is kind, and he's a good leader. I can look out for myself, I'll be fine," I say. Oh no... That probably seemed out of place... "I'm sorry for snapping ma'am."

"Hmph."

"Stafford does have a point though," Cecelia says. "Just remember to continually look out for yourself. You can do it."

I smile. "Will do. Thanks Cecelia."

As soon as I finish eating, I excuse myself to shower and go to sleep. Hopefully tonight the sadness will be pushed back by my happier thoughts... I sure hope so.

I climb into bed and feel absolutely exhausted. I'm finally ready for a good night's sleep.

Only one thought keeps me awake. But all I need is one thought to have another sleepless night.

 _How am I supposed to stand up for myself now when I never learned how?_

~.~.

 _ **A/N: Hurrah, this story has risen from the dead! Took it long enough. Sorry for the lack of any updates since summer, I've been working on this for a while and just now got the energy and motivation lined up to finish it.**_

 _ **Hope you enjoyed this first day of training as we start to meet the other tributes that haven't been introduced yet! IT was a blast to write and I'll continue to have fun writing this story!**_

 _ **If you didn't know, subs for my next full SYOT Whims of Fate are open, and they'll close soon (I'll have a deadline hopeully as soon as I finish the next prologue for it) so if you are interested, check my profile!**_

 _ **Also, since this is a points story I'll say: I'm changing up how I keep record of sponsor points for my stories! Instead of keeping them on notepad, I'm keeping records on a Google spreadsheet! Link is on my profile. I'm still not updating the sheet until I post a new update, but this way I don't have to post them on chapters for you all to know where you stand.**_

 _ **Chapter Question: Which of the non-featured tribs peaked your interest the most this chapter?**_

 _ **Enjoy and I'll see you hopefully soon!**_


	10. Business and Friendship

**Training Day Two**

-Abigail Macbeth, 13, District 5-

I used to wonder if the tributes had any fun before the Games. I knew that it was probably pretty scary for them, knowing they were going to get put in an Arena and have to fight to the death there. But the rest of the process always looked like fun to me. The chariot rides, the interviews... Even training.

All my life I imagined what it would be like to see the gym in person. They never filmed while tributes were in there training, but they always gave a shot of the empty gym. It always looked so big to me. I always wondered if the tributes had fun running around there. It was so expansive, it looked like the perfect place to play. Surely, I thought, even if they were going to die, they would have fun with their last days.

Python always told me I would never have to worry about that. I wish he was right.

I realize that it's far easier said than done. It's far easier to say that we'll go down smiling than to do it.

The first few days I was here, I was riding high. I finally had a cute boy of my own, and we were enjoying being together. We wore crazy hats, we played games together. We had fun on the chariot, glowing and waving, and we talked to some of the other tributes. I thought for sure I'd love training, being in that giant gym and having a whole course to run all by myself... Walls to climb, a big space just to twirl in, and try new things.

I was wrong.

Training was sort of fun that first morning. Ez and I raced on the agility course and talked to some new people there. We tried the climbing wall, but neither of us got too far without any help.

That afternoon, I watched the girl from District One destroy a dummy with her sword. I realized quite suddenly that the dummy could have been me... Or Ez. After that day I haven't been able to stop imagining ever dummy to be myself, or Ez... I don't want to watch him die... I don't want to die.

"Oh Turtle, let's go see if we can identify bugs! Maybe there will be some samples for us to try!" he grinned at me. "Are you up for it?"

I try my best not to frown. "I think I should actually learn some things today," I say quietly.

"Oh." He blinked. "I guess that would be smart. Um... Are you okay?" He frowned slowly.

"Um..." I watched the boy from one shoot a dummy straight in the heart and couldn't stop wincing, my chest thumping as if the arrow had already landed there. "I just think we need to focus, that's all. On how to survive."

"I suppose so," he said quietly. "Maybe we should split up?"

I nod and try a tiny smile. "That sounds like a good idea. Then we can cover ground more quickly."

"Alright, let's reconvene for lunch then!" He reaches his fist out and I bump it. "Agreed," I say.

Ez goes off to the berry identification station, and I go to see if I can build a fire.

I try to focus on what's in front of me. One of the tributes from District Nine is beside me, but I'm not even looking over at them. I really need to learn how to make this. Python said I've always been good at making things, so I know I can do this.

I listen to everything the instructor is saying and copy. After what feels like forever, I finally start to get somewhere.

Sparks start flying and beside me I hear a surprised squeak.

"Sorry," I say, glancing over at the timid tribute from District Ten.

"You got that fast," she said, offering me a small smile.

"It doesn't feel fast," I say. This process is indeed taking _forever_.

"Well you're on your way. Took me about a million years yesterday. I'm trying to get faster."

"I see. That's a good idea."

"I'm Inari," she says. I recognize her as the tribute in the cow costume. She stayed pretty close to her cowboy when I saw her.

"I'm Turtle."

"Turtle. I like that. How'd you get that nickname?"

That word makes me stop cold, even though the tribute next to me had already started their fire.

"It's not a nickname. That's my name," I say, scowling.

Inari's full face goes bright red in embarrassment. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said quietly, and quickly turned back to her own, twisting the stick as quickly as she possibly could. I frown, wondering if I shouldn't have sounded so cold... I quickly leave that station. I've learned enough about fire-making for now.

I go to another station that involves making things: trap-making. I'm sure Ez won't want to want to be offensive either, so if I can trap tributes or animals it'll make it easier for us to operate.

I hurry over, but stop in my tracks when I hear someone say forcefully, "Hold it!"

The boy from Six who was working at that station looks up at me. "Watch your step."

I realize I was about three steps away from a pile of leaves, which I assume is a trap in the works. It looks pretty complicated to me.

"Thanks," I say, scratching the back of my neck awkwardly. "I almost went flying high!"

"Well it's not done yet," he said, rolling his eyes slightly. "I was just saving my trap from you breaking it."

"Oh," I say. This is probably karma coming for me after I was rude to that girl from 10.

"But once it's done, you would go flying."

"Think you could show me how you make it?" I ask.

"Nice try," he says. "I have better things to do then try to teach a little kid a big kid trick."

I cross my arms. "I am not just a little kid. I have my own dildo!"

That makes him break his apathetic mask and look genuinely startled. "What?!"

"Oh I don't use it. I just like to look at it."

"So you're one of _those_."

"I was really missing my dildo, luckily I have another dick to look at," I say, taking a seat beside him and greeting the instructor.

"You just don't stop, do you?" he asks, the smallest hint of a smile touching across his face. "Being reckless like that is just gonna get you killed."

My confidence deflates like a balloon. "It will not," I say, looking at the ropes and twigs set out.

"Will too," he says, going back to what he was doing before.

"Will not," I say. The instructor explains the first step, and I work hard trying to copy her.

"Will too," he mumbles under his breath.

"Klaus, focus on your own," the trainer scolds.

I giggle, trying to hide it. "Who's the little kid now?" I ask, which makes the instructor shush me too.

"Still you," he mumbles.

As much as I don't want him to get the last word, I know that I really need to focus on what I'm doing, so I drop it and work on the trap.

The lunch bell rings just as I'm starting my last few knots. The other tributes start moving, but I want to finish before lunch so I keep going.

By the time my trap is finished and has been tested by the trainer, the line's completely cleared out.

I go to the buffet and get my tray of food, then look around the lunch room.

What I find is not what I expect. Instead of finding Ez alone, he's sitting at a table with two other girls.

I approach slowly. Ez's smile widens slightly when I approach. "Hi Turtle!" He says.

"Um... What...?"

"This is Brialle and Melanie! They're really cool!"

"Um..." I don't know what to say. The girls both smile at me.

"Nice to meet you," Brialle says. "We're making an alliance of younger tributes, and well... The more the merrier, right?"

"That's right!" Ez said, smiling. "Melanie is really good at identifying berries that are edible, and Brialle is really, _really_ smart!"

I should be nice to them... Ez seems to like that. But... Brialle looks so unique, with her light hair with a white streak in it. And Melanie has black hair that is long and looks silky, and olive skin. Why am I even here, I can't compare to them... It was ridiculously stupid of me to think that the kind attractive boy was actually interested in me above all other girls...

"Turtle?" Ez said.

"I don't think this is a good idea,' I say quickly, heading off to a table that's empty and sitting alone.

I'm no stranger to eating alone. I always ate alone at school, the other kids thought I was weird and they didn't like me. They thought they were being "nice", but I saw their smirks behind the scenes. I saw them laughing behind my back. That laugh that is malicious, smirking and looking at all their smirking friends. I guess I couldn't even escape it here.

I suppose that's for the best, though. I can't afford to make any more friends than I already have. After all, I really don't want to die. I want to get back home. I wish I'd realized it earlier, so I didn't waste a whole day of training doing nonsense.

I won't let myself look over at them. I don't need them coming over here.

Python always said that there was truly no such thing as a _friend_. Everyone wanted to get to the top, even if it meant crushing each other. Even those popular kids, they're not friends. They'd eat each other if it meant they survived. The world didn't care about anyone. There was no such thing as love, outside of family. He always said there was something special about family.

As much as I hated to even think about Python right now, I knew he was right. Especially in the Hunger Games. How was I so stupid to believe there would be friendship in the Games? Everyone just wants to leave alive. And that means killing me. There is no such thing as friendship, or love, not in the Games. I was a fool to think there would be.

I know, it's not a big deal. He's just talking to a couple other girls. Still though. The Games aren't a place to make friends. I should have known better.

The lunch room clears out as the tributes go to training one by one. The Careers are the first to go, other tributes following. I watch Klaus head back to training. On his way past my table, he ruffles my hair a little. "You're a good kid," he mutters as he walks past. Great, even the dick is pitying me.

I realize I'm getting up to leave at the same time as Ez and his new pretty allies. I sit back down, letting them go first. I don't even want to be near them.

When I get up, I realize that Ezreal is still sitting. I try not to look at him.

"Turtle wait," he says.

"What do you want?" I ask, turning back around.

"Well... I just wanted to see if you were okay."

"I'll be fine alone."

"What happened to you? I... I thought we were going to enjoy this time together..." He frowned.

"I thought so too," I said. "But... You know where we are, don't you?"

"I do!" he says, but I don't think I believe it.

"I want to get home to..." I stop mid-sentence. I don't even know who I have to get home to. Do I even have a family? "To sort things out. I can't just die here without getting answers... Reconciling with my brother. It's too soon for me."

"I made us more allies."

"I can't afford to make any more friends. They will only break your heart when they leave."

"Turtle..."

"I thought we were going to stick to each other. But now you're just talking to everyone you meet, making friends with them! That's dangerous, Ez... Each person you befriend is one more tough step between you and District Five. Don't you realize that?"

"Turtle, please-"

"I need to be allied with someone who is taking this seriously, Ez. I don't need a bunch of dead weight that will become my friend and then I'll hurt to lose. I'm already attached to you, and I can't afford a big alliance like that. Do they even have skills?"

"They have skills..."

"Like what? Did you see them do anything?"

Ez looks at the ground. "I... No."

"You have to take this seriously, Ez. Don't you want to go home to your family? Don't you want to get home to May?!"

Ezreal glances up at me. "Turtle... I'm not getting home."

"But..." How can he say this?! "But May! How can you leave your family and all your friends behind!?"

"I'm not going to hurt anyone, Turtle. I already know that. I'm just trying to make the most of my last days."

I can't control the tears that pool in my eyes at the thought of Ezreal losing his life. I've been trying not to think about it...

"You can't just... Give up."

"I'm not going to kill. There's no way I'm going to win. I want to make a bunch of friends and have the greatest time with them!"

I sniffle, knowing that I'm embarrassing myself by crying. My cheeks heat up at the thought.

"I refuse to give up on myself. There's too much at stake for me getting home."

Ezreal frowns. "I understand."

"You have plenty of other girls prettier than I am and more fun to be around. You'll have no problem replacing me."

I clear my throat to try and get the tears to subside.

"Oh, Turtle... I could never replace you." He reaches out and takes both of my hands. "You're the most unique person I've ever met. I've never met anyone like you."

"Everyone tells me that. It's just their polite way of saying I'm messed up."

"No! That's not what I meant at all! What I mean is... Well, you're something special, Turtle D'Angelo. You always make me laugh. We always have a good time together. I could never find anyone that cracks me up like you do. And I'm just glad that I got these few days of awesome-ness with you."

Through the tears, a smile spreads across my face. "You don't have to lie to make me feel better..."

"I would never lie to you. I will hold the memories we made together in my heart forever. You're rad. I mean... I'm used to living every day like it's my last, because that's what I've always done. But it wasn't until I spent time with you that it really felt like... I got to live. So thank you."

I can't hold back a smile. He's really such a great guy. He leans in with a small nervous laugh and kisses my ear.

"Sorry," he says, blushing. "I meant to hit your cheek."

I can't control the grin that spreads across my face. "It's okay." I giggle a little.

"You're right, though, Turtle. You need to focus on yourself, getting out alive. You have a shot, you really do. You're one of the most ingenious people I know. You could be the youngest Victor in history! But... You don't need any dead weight. I know I'm not going to hurt anyone, I'm going to die... You need to focus on yourself so you can win, not me. So... I think you're right. It's best that we just leave each other alone. I can't do anything for you."

I try to stop the tears from coming, but he gently reaches up, spreads his fingers across my head and uses his thumb to brush them away.

"I'll learn as much as I can so that I can win. For both of us."

Ez smiles, but I can see his lip quivering a bit. "Thanks Turtle."

I throw my arms around him and he hugs me back tightly.

He lets go after a short hug, wiping my cheeks again. "You need to get back out there."

I nod a little. "Yeah. You're right." We put our dishes away and leave the room together.

~.~.

-Nebuchadnezzar Spiros, 18, District 2-

It wasn't a hard decision that the untrained boy from District Four wouldn't be a part of our alliance this year. It was also smoothly agreed that it wasn't worth replacing him. After all, the best choices besides little Ott were the guys from Ten and Three, and neither was the type that I'd want to trust while I'm sleeping.

The boy from Three was intimidating as well, but I'm confident in our alliance just how it is. We had a strong showing for volunteers this year. Besides, One and Two are the important Districts. Four's just an added bonus.

The first day of training was the single most frustrating thing I've ever experienced. For some reason everything I did was just horrible. I couldn't hit a dummy straight and I always just missed the right spots. And the more frustrated I got, the worse I trained.

I just don't understand. That was the worst showing I'd ever done! The Gamemakers were probably confused as to why District Two even sent me. I humiliated myself. I hadn't trained that poorly in _years_.

This morning, I went into hyper-focus. Every shot had to be perfect. But it seemed that the more focused I was, the worse it got. I'd gotten so used to training without focusing on it. But... What was I focusing on then?!

I throw a spear crooked that hits the arm. Dammit, the arm! How could I possibly have hit the arm!? If Horus were here he wouldn't have hit the damn arm...

Wait, that's it! The reason I trained so well was because there was always someone right next to me that thought he could do it better. Maybe that's what I need... All I need is some good healthy competition.

But who...? Hm... Lori is old news. I've already beat her at every station under the sun, there's no way she could possibly take me here.

I head to where Zuli's been working at the sword station, but when I get there I see the girl sitting on the floor, reading a book.

"Zuli?"

She glances up over the pages at me. "Hey."

"What are you doing?"

She raises an eyebrow and holds up her book. I walked right into that one.

"Why?"

"I'm freshening up my memory."

When I read the cover of the book I find that it's about finding water in different environments. Well, at least it's productive reading. But still, useless for any kind of competition.

"We'll have free reign in the Cornucopia, but I guess it can't hurt," I say. Then, I turn around and leave her be. When I glance back, I notice Lori trotting over to her. When she says hello, Zuli closes her book and puts it on the floor beside her.

Of course only Lori can get her to do that. I wonder if it's just a girls thing or what. Although if I were a girl, I doubt I'd care much for Lori's constant fashion advice. Unless she only gives that to guys. If I had a nickel for every time she told me to tuck in my damn shirt. Or, half-tuck, because "that's totally in! Or, well, it will be, sometime, soon."

I head over to where Neapolitan is training with a bow and arrows. That's not my best weapon, but maybe I can convince him to meet me at the hand-to-hand combat station.

Neapolitan is one person I haven't really gotten a read on yet. He's been so focused talking to the girls that I haven't had much one-on-one conversation with him. He's played some flirting games, unfortunately Lori is a lesbian, and his District partner wasn't interested.

I wonder if Garrett has talked to him.

Anyways, maybe this will be my chance to figure out if he's just an okay person who tried and failed a strategy or a total douchebag. He could go either way.

He looks up when I approach and gives me a nod of recognition before turning back to his target and letting an arrow go. It hits the dummy right in the neck.

"Nice shot," I say, causing him to look over. I pick up a bow and stand beside him. "Is this your weapon of choice?"

"My weapon of choice is my versatility," he says, smirking and winking at me.

I can't control the eye-roll at that statement. "Nobody can be a master at all weapons," I say, matter-of-factly. "I know because if they could, I would be."

"Maybe I'm just more dedicated than you are, Loch Nez Monster."

"Excuse you!" I say, feeling heat rise to my face. "It's Nez or Neb, or you should just call me by my full name! Nebuchadnezzar!"

"Oh, so you're one of those." He focuses.

"One of what?!"

He lets the arrow sail into the dummy's heart. "One of those ultra-masculine Careers."

"I am not! It's the principle of the thing! Call me by my name!"

"What, is Nebby too girly for your taste?"

I can't control the disgusted face I make. "Of course it is. It's too cutesy. And we're not friends. We're strictly allies."

I pick up the bow and aim it. The device feels foreign in my hands. Too bulky, too awkward. It doesn't come naturally to me because that's not the weapon I've perfected.

"So you're Mr. Business then," Neapolitan says, as I shoot my arrow and it lands in the dummy's thigh.

"We're in the Hunger Games. Friendship doesn't exist here."

"I suppose that's the smart thing to do. So, Mr. Business, how about some good old fashioned... Business competition?"

I smirk. He's got me fired up, surely this will motivate me to show my skills better than him. "Oh, you're _so_ on!"

The trainer at the station keeps track of our shots based on how they hit the targets. We agree to fire twenty shots each and then get our final score. Neapolitan hits the target on the chest every time, and during our competition he doesn't stray from that. I aim for different places (mostly because my bow usage is a matter of trial and error. If I can't get it to hit the target on the chest, maybe I can hit the stomach target. No. Head target? Big no. Throat target? Oh, I've hit the chest target!)

Neapolitan finishes his firing before I'm even on the twelfth arrow. I take my time to finish my shots, trying for accuracy over speed. Unfortunately, compared to him I have neither.

One more shot to make this count. I aim my arrow, making sure it's trained on its target. I want to end on a good note, even if there's no possible way I can win.

Suddenly, a big clatter happens right beside me, which causes me to jump and release the arrow into the ground right in front of me.

Neapolitan laughs, and when I look over I see that he pushed over the display of bows, which made all the noise.

"What the hell was that for!?" I ask, throwing my bow down in frustration.

"A fight is never just dead-silent, Nebby. You have to be prepared for anything." I look up, noticing the Gamemakers talking amongst each other, and knowing that the damn bastard tricked me. Dammit! I can't let this punk-ass bitch outscore me!

"Who do you think you are!? We're allies! You shouldn't be sabotaging me!"

Neapolitan shrugs, which makes me clench my teeth tightly. "I wasn't sabotaging you, I was _helping_ you."

"Fine, let's go to the hand-to-hand station then! See how you like it!"

I turn around to head off, not caring to hear the scores because I know he demolished me. After a few steps I notice that he isn't following me.

"Well?" I ask. God, I wish we could fight in the training center.

"I think I'm going to pass."

"Pass!? What?! Why!? You can't just _pass_!"

"Yeah I can. I don't want to lose to you in front of the Gamemakers. That's just embarrassing."

What the fuck!? That little bitch, just taking advantage of me like that!

"How _dare_ you make a fool of me!" I shout, lunging for him. I can't take this anymore, I have to teach that little bastard a _lesson_!

"Woah, wait a minute!" Garrett hurries over as trainers step in. Quickly, I step back from Neapolitan. I wish I could just toss him out of the alliance, but honestly I need him. Fractured Career alliances are good for nothing. I need him to be on my side for as long as possible. Especially because having someone with long-range weapons is important. And as far as I can throw a knife, arrows have the potential to strike from alarming distances.

"Master of everything, my ass," I grumble, still feeling the anger coursing through me.

"Let's just stay focused," Garrett says, looking between the two of us. Neapolitan scoffs, that bastard, and walks away, back to the one thing he's actually good at, I'm sure.

"Did you want someone to practice with?" Garrett asks. "I've been looking for some motivation myself."

"That didn't go so well for me the first time," I grumble. "He doesn't understand that losing is what motivates you to get better, so next time you'll win. He'll understand, next time we're against each other I'll be the victorious one."

"Truthfully, I've been looking for someone to keep me focused while moving from station to station. I'm always so... Alert... That sometimes I can get pulled out of the moment by all the chaos. What do you say?" He gives me a small business smile, which I return.

"I think we'll both be able to help each other."

Garrett and I move the hand-to-hand station, where we spar a few rounds in protective gear. I would never wear anything like this at the Academy. At the Academy, we never wore armor. If you got punched, you got a bloody nose, period. The Capitol has great technology to absorb the force, but keep it somewhat realistic to what a fight would be. Garrett is comfortable in the armor, and moves well in it. I bet they use this in District Four Academies. I'm not used to this armor, and my rage at Neapolitan still simmers, causing me to attack rashly and try to be on offense when my rational brain knows I should be defending myself. He gives me a final blow and I hit the floor, knowing I've been defeated.

The trainer at the station blows a whistle, meaning that the time for fighting was over.

God, I hate losing. When I look up, Garrett is holding a hand down to me. I graciously take it and allow him to help me up. This armor is good, but the blow still knocked the wind out of me.

"Thanks," I say.

Garrett smiles at me. "You're welcome. What do you say? Another round?!"

I grin at him. "Oh, you're going down! I'll get you right back!"

"I'd like to see you try!"

We fight again. As I feel more comfortable in the armor, I start to learn how I can move best to get in some extra hits. I am victorious for the second fight. I feel bad, because Garrett is a good guy, but he beat me once and I couldn't lose to him after that!

By the end of our twenty-one fights, I've won thirteen and he won eight. Once I learned to adjust to the armor, and figured out his fighting style, I was able to predict him better, and be more agile and defensive.

Now that our battles are over, I can tell him the mistakes he made, and give him some advice from what I've learned back home. District Two is known for rearing good fighters. And unlike _some_ people, I actually want to help my allies succeed. With my advice, he easily takes down a trainer.

Afterwards, we go to the station with swords and staves. My sword skills are better than my bow skills by far. Unfortunately for me, Garrett is a master at the quarter staff. He's faster, and he has my moves figured out within the first five fights. By twenty, my score is pitiful. Two to eighteen. There was no way I was going to beat him, no matter how hard I tried. That only motivates me to try harder!

Garrett gives me some advice about using staves, just in case I would ever need to. Using a quarterstaff isn't something a lot of Academies teach in District Two, so the knowledge is deeply valued.

I realize how hard I'm laughing when the lunch bell rings and I'm practically doubled over.

Oh no. This is dangerous.

Garrett and I walk to lunch together, but only with the promise that after lunch we're going to throw knives so I can really school him. (He doesn't exactly know that yet, of course. I'm sure he'll realize quickly once we get there.) Then we decide we'll do something that we're both mediocre at to round out the day.

By the time we get our food and head to our table, I'm feeling good. So good that I can sit across from that little bitch Neapolitan without wringing his throat.

This was going to work out just fine.

~.~.

 _ **A/N: Sorry for this shorter chapter with not as many tributes featured. It's been a while since I've updated this story so it was a little tough to ease back into it. Regardless, I hope you liked this chapter!**_

 _ **If you haven't already, vote on the SYOT Awards! Link to the forum that's hosting them is on my profile. There are only two more days to vote, as it closes on January 10**_ _ **th**_ _ **!**_

 _ **Also, the D3F slot for my full SYOT Whims of Fate is officially re-opened, so if you're interested info for that is also on my profile.**_

 _ **CQ: I don't know what to ask and I'm kind of burnt out for ideas so... Who are your favorites of the eight featured tributes so far?**_

 _ **Sorry for the lame ending to this chapter, I just didn't want to leave it sitting around. I'll see you again, hopefully sooner than a whole semester, lol.**_


	11. Howling Laughter and Roaring Crowds

Training Day Three

-Job Markov, 17, District 3-

The sound of the alarm never sounded so sweet to me. After the dream I had, anything would sound like music.

Oh, music. How badly I missed playing music. I hadn't so much as seen a piano for a week. It was so painful to think that I could possibly never see one again.

I'm sure many of the other tributes were having bad dreams about the Hunger Games. I couldn't blame them. Surprisingly, my dream wasn't about the Arena, though. It was about fucking up my private session, which I would argue is worse. At least the Games didn't happen for another few days. There was no way I was going to avoid private sessions.

How badly I ached for some form of calm. Some calm of home… Some form of normalcy. If only I'd known when my last day of normalcy would be.

I pull on the training outfit that was set out for me. The nice thing about that is that at least it's the same for everyone. The same brand of ugly but sleek comfort while learning how to survive as best as you can. I wash my face and run a comb through my hair. I take a few deep breaths, looking at my gaunt, pale face in the mirror. Still alive, but barely.

I'm spooked by the sound of loud rapping at the door, which I know is my escort making sure I'm awake. Heaven forbid I make him look bad by being late. Little does he know that I don't plan to participate in these Games. To do so would surely be a sin. I'm not sure why I was sent here, what I did wrong to be damned to the Arena, but God has a plan and I guess I just need to keep holding on until I can realize what it is. I've spent plenty of time trying to discern what I'm supposed to be doing here, but it's hard to figure it out on my own. And it seems like the telephone line up to heaven was cut the moment they read my name. Which is truly the last thing I need right now.

 _Calm down, Job,_ I tell myself, taking a deep breath. I have to be in a good mindset today.

I feel much calmer as I step out into the common area. Heiko is already at the table, his plate piled high with bacon and sausage and fresh fruits of all sorts. I take a seat and take a crepe. I feel far too nervous to eat a good breakfast.

"Oh, good, you're here," Landon says, smoothing back his hair. "I was just telling Heiko how I get my teeth to be _sooo_ white!"

"Oh goody," I say, taking another deep breath to try and slow my pounding heart and feel something other than the terrible feeling of dread.

"Not very many people have teeth the color of snow dear," he says, "Take a look at yourself!"

I look away from him, blushing in embarrassment.

"Oh, can it already, would you?" Heiko says, rolling his eyes.

"Excuse me!"

"Pontifex agrees," Gio says, spooning some oatmeal into his mouth. "He says you should can it. Hey there, watch that PDA you two! That doesn't even make sense! You hate each other!"

"Should we be worried?" I murmur to Heiko.

"I think this shit is normal for him," he says back, far louder than my whisper.

"I'm sorry, but I was saying something!" Landon says, crossing his arms. He gets back to talking about himself, and I try to tune him out as I try helplessly to plan what I'm going to do in my private session.

 _Job, why is this such a concern for you? You're not participating, you're just going to die! So what does it matter if you don't score well?_ The voice in my head tries to calm my anxiety, but I can't help but feel nervous. I want to at least make my friends proud of me… And a score doesn't mean I'm playing their game, right?! No, of course not! It's what happens in front of the cameras that _actually_ matters! That's what really counts. I'm okay doing what I'm doing now. I'm okay. It'll just be once we get to the Arena that I show them who I'm really serving. I will never serve the Capitol, I only serve the one that saved me. Right. But a stupid number isn't going to matter one way or another. So I might as well make them proud back home. It's all for them.

When I look over, Heiko is making "blah blah blah" motions with his hands, impersonating every big dramatic motion Landon is doing as he talks about the rugged terrain of the Wild Wild West and its precious cowboys. It was almost interesting the first time, but now it's all the same. I would far rather be talking about something that actually matters.

Just then Gio starts cackling across from me. In all the years of seeing him on the television, I don't think I've ever heard the man laugh, let alone like this. I glance over at Heiko, who gives me a look. As soon as I make eye contact, I look away. _So green._ As much as I want to be making connections with people, I do want to give them each a chance. And I don't want to trick anyone into thinking that I'll actually be an asset to them when I'm not even playing.

"Oh stop pelvic thrusting Tia!" he cackles. "You're going to make me piss myself!" He keeps laughing.

"Speaking of crazies," Heiko says, over Landon's indignation that he's being laughed at and Gio's cackling and gasping air, "Have you been approached by the girl from District Seven?"

"No, I haven't. She seems like a good asset, though…"

"She's nuts. She came over yelling and then got all gruff. I think she was mocking me."

I feel some form of relief wash over me, right before a sea of confusion. Why am I relieved that Heiko is still travelling alone? After all, I can't ally with him, I would only slow him down. I don't want him to be hurt, so I should probably be happy if he finds someone else to ally with. Maybe it makes me feel secure to know that I'm not the only person that's going to be alone. I keep feeling like I'm doing something wrong because I don't have anyone to be with. I'm a communal person that likes to have others by their side. But this is the one place where I have to fight the fight by myself.

"Don't join in Tuesday! You're going to make me fall off my chair!" Gio howls. Wiress shifts uncomfortably in her seat at the outburst. Landon's face turns red at the laughing.

"I think we should get started down, don't you Job?" Heiko asks, giving a glance back at the others. "We wouldn't want to be late to our last day of training."

"Oh, um, yeah." I glance in his eyes again. Dammit. Why did God have to make him so fine?

"You don't sound so sure," he says, standing up and pushing in his chair. I do the same, not really sure how to put my feelings into words. "Come on Job, why the long face? Leave the horses to be ridden by the King of the Cowboys over there."

"Are you not nervous at all for private sessions?"

"Oh, I'm damn terrified," he says, ruffling my hair and giving me a crooked smile. "But who isn't? Besides, we have the morning."

"I wish I could be as positive as you."

Heiko quickly hits the close doors button before our escort and mentors can get on the elevator. We travel to the ground floor.

"So, you're still set on that whole dying thing, eh Job?"

I look down at the floor. "Mmhm. That's what I believe in."

"Mm. Damn shame. Well, that's your own initiative. Guess it'll make this shit one person easier."

I feel a surge of terror at the thought of becoming a number. A no-name. A faceless Bloodbath. I can barely force out the words. "Yeah. Yeah. It will."

"And I guess that means I'll be on my own."

"That doesn't sound very safe," I say quietly, a storm of feelings swirling around in my stomach.

The elevator doors open to the Training Center.

"Couldn't find anyone worth trusting. That doesn't have a death wish." He gives me a quick wink, his face falling slightly when I give him a sad smile, and heads to the ropes course to warm up.

I go to the bug eating station to learn all about how God created the most disgusting little survival snacks for His beloved people. Delicious.

I'm distracted from the _excitement_ of picking which bugs won't kill you by a paper fluttering down in front of my face. I jump at the sight of a projectile, but sigh in relief when I realize what it is. This isn't going to kill me. I pick it up and am about to look for who lost it when I notice the top of a staff of music on the page. Music?! Music falling from the sky? Maybe this was a sign of some sort from God! I have to see what it is. I open it up and see piano chords! I can't help my excitement as I look at the notes, hearing the music in my head as my eyes scan the chords. Not a song I've ever heard of, though. But it seems like it would be pretty. If only I could actually sit and play it out, and actually hear what it sounds like, not just my shitty audiation… My fingers hit the screen of the bugs station as I desperately try to pretend that I'm playing a real instrument. I hum quietly as I draw the sound out of my imaginary keys.

I hear someone clear their throat beside me and jump.

"Hi," he says, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. "Can I, um, have that back now?"

"Huh?" I look at him, wondering what he wants from me, until I realize- "Oh, is this yours?!"

"Yeeeah," he says slowly.

"Of course! Sorry." I quickly fold the music back up and hand it to him.

"Do you know the song?" he asks, looking hopeful.

"Oh, um, no, I don't actually."

"Wait, so you were just singing and playing that by sight?!"

I laugh a little. "Oh, um, yeah." I feel a flush spread across my face at his awe. "I'm a classically trained pianist and these are mostly just chords."

"Oh, I see." He laughs nervously and looks at the ground. "I'm just self-taught, so stuff like that takes practice."

"Right. I would imagine it would be hard to come across lessons in District…" I glance at the number on his chest. "Eleven."

"Yeah, as you can imagine, all I know are a few folk songs passed on from my family."

"That's pretty impressive though if you're self-taught! I could never have taught myself stuff like that. I just had an expert to tell me what to do."

"Was it good to have lessons?"

"Oh yeah, I miss it badly."

"You miss it?" he asks, sitting down next to me. "Why did you stop?"

"Not by choice," I say. I really shouldn't tell him much more…

"Oh…" He glances at my screen, which now reads 40% accuracy because I was playing it like a keyboard earlier. "Do you know if there's a piano in the building?"

"I haven't come across one. Have you?" I can't help the feeling of hopefulness that courses through me. Maybe if there is one I can open the communication back up to God and figure out what the hell I'm doing here!

"No," he sighed.

"That sucks," I sigh, glancing back at the screen. "I should probably get back to this now though."

"Wait, Job is it?"

"Yeah, that's my name."

"I'm Anders Bonilla Cruz. But I'm more commonly known as ABC."

"ABC. That's cute. Nice to meet you."

"Would you be interested in travelling together through the course of the Games?"

I glance over at his hopeful brown eyes and feel my spirits sink.

"Oh, um… I'm really sorry, but I can't."

"You can't…"

"I can't ally with anyone, I'm not an asset to have. I don't really plan to participate in these Games."

"But…"

"I know, it's a death wish. But I can't see any other way for myself."

"Alright… Well, if you change your mind…"

"You'll be there. I got you."

"Yeah." He gives me a small sad smile. "I should probably get back to the camouflage station now."

"Yeah…" He turns around, but I call after him. "ABC?"

He turns around quickly. "Yeah?"

I give him as big of a smile as I can muster feeling so heavy and scared inside. "Thanks for letting me look through your music. I needed that."

"Oh, um, you're welcome." He quickly turns around and hurries away from me, back to the camouflage station. I feel terrible for turning him down like that, but I just have to keep telling myself that it's for his own good. He would truly be better off without me, because I'm not going to make it past the first day anyways.

Right?

Right.

~.~.

-Twyla Frisk, 17, District 7-

It feels so good to sit down. I really think I did the best I could for my Private session, and after the showing from the Five and Six tributes, I'm sure that it was a welcome performance. Hopefully I could upstage Walden. Although I'm not sure what he has planned with that girl from Eight…

I feel good about using my training time wisely. I got the message across to all 23 other tributes and maybe even made some friends along the way! Plus, I got to do a little of everything as I followed people around. And I think that channeling my anger and pretending that dummy was the man himself was a great way to put on a good show for the judges. Now all that's left is to wait for the announcement of the scores.

"I can see it now," Katsuji says, putting his arm around Walden's shoulders and leading him to the living area, "District Seven's newest Victor, Walden Whitmore! You even have a catchy Victor's name and everything!"

Walden grinned in that smug annoying way of his. "Has quite a ring to it, don't you think?"

"You're gonna be a hit kid!" Katsuji says, as the two of them manage to man spread enough to take up an entire couch.

"I would drink to that if I wasn't so serious about taking out all these bitches and coming back to my adoring fans!"

"I'll buy you a beer when you get back," Katsuji says cheerfully.

"Hey, that better be a promise!" Walden said, both of them grinning and laughing.

"Shut up," I murmur, feeling a sense of relief when Jadea puts her hand softly on her back to reassure me. She's really not so bad.

"That one's going to look beautiful surrounded by stars up there," Walden said.

"The true beauty is that she won't be talking!" Katsuji adds, and they both laugh some more.

"I'll show _you_!" I shout, unable to control the anger.

"God, it's so easy to push your buttons Baby Doll. Calm down."

I'm about to unleash on Katsuji when the TV lights up with Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith. I'm seething so violently I can barely even hear their lively pre-Games banter as they discuss how exciting this year is going to be and whatever the hell else they usually say. I never paid attention to these stupid programs growing up. I never had to.

"I can't wait any longer! Let's get to the scores, eh Caesar?" Claudius asks in that posh voice.

"That sounds delightful, what do you think Capitol!?" Caesar asked, smiling at the screen. I could actually hear the screams and applause of the crowds outside our building.

"I think they're ready! Let's start with the District of luxury, District One!"

I take a deep breath. "Neapolitan Hightower, District One." The boy appeared on the screen, smirking at the camera with a maniacal smile. It had taken forever to get the _perfect_ shot of him, by his own request. He kept redoing the poses until he got one he liked. It was vomit-worthy. He reminds me of Harry fucking Openshaw, with that charming personality and that smile that makes people stare. He is a total fake, though. It seems his allies haven't all figured this out yet. "With a score of.. Nine!"

Not a big surprise. He didn't seem too brutish, which will cause him to score lower than his fellow allies. But I know for sure that he's a total liar.

"Next, from District one, we have Lazuli Romano!" She was hard to talk to, probably the most apathetic Career I've ever met. She seemed so bored with what she was doing. The easiest thing about connecting with her was the fact that I caught her sitting against the wall and reading. If only she'd had a pencil, I would have written the name in her book. Her picture flashes on the screen. She smiles, but you can see the boredom in her face. I have to wonder why someone who isn't excited about being a deathmatch would be in one in the first place. "With a score of… Eight!" A respectable score, for a Career.

"You can easily outscore her!" Katsuji said cheerfully. "What the hell was District One even thinking, she's not even pretty!" he cackled and high-fived Walden.

"Shush, they're showing the boy from Two!" Snapped Jadea.

"Nebuchadnezzar Spiros, from District Two," Caesar said. He had the best picture so far. He actually looked scary. I actually talked to guy, he's not that scary. He's like a giant toasted marshmallow. I could see him constantly watching out for the little boy from Five. So much that his allies called him Daddy. Although maybe that was a joke. He looks strong in the training outfit, and even though the metal wings behind his ears were definitely not even, he looked proud in them. "With a score of… Ten!"

"No surprise there," Katsuji said, "Look at him."

"From District Two, Lorelei Nyima!" Caesar said. Even her picture looked crazy. She was trying to wear a fake tumbleweed as an accessory when I saw her. "Anything to spice up these boring outfits!" she said. She even painted a design on the outfits at the camouflage station, in the name of fashion. That made it easy to approach her, though. She was very outspoken and frank, which I can respect. "With a score of… Nine!"

I thought about the look on Neapolitan's face at the realization that he was matched by the crazy fashion bitch from District Two. That thought actually made me smile.

"From District Three, Heiko Spate!" The District Three boy was giving the camera a crazy smile in his picture. I thought he would be hard to talk to, but he seemed alright. Definitely loud and outspoken. A bit foul-mouthed. But I think he'll do well for me if I can't make it. "With a score of… Oh! Eight!"

"If that guy got an eight, I can't wait to see your score!" Katsuji said, clapping Walden on the back.

"From District Three, Job Markov!" The tribute appeared on the screen. She had a calm expression on her face in the picture. I had fun talking to her this morning, because she was pretty nice and kind of an open book as well. "With a score of… Mm, six!"

Six is pretty good for her, especially because I was expecting a way lower score from such a soft-spoken tribute.

"From District Four, Garrett Wylde!" He also took a while for his picture, just because nobody was sure what to have him do. They decided on a picture that looked calmer and more determined, which I think was the right way to be. He was polite when I talked to him, but curt. His District partner avoided him like the plague, I noticed that right away. He was super close to Nebuchadnezzar from District Two, but I think they are both in denial about that. Here isn't the place to actually make friends, I guess. "With a score of… Ten!" So he scored the same as his buddy. Not a big shock to me, after seeing him training.

"And, also from District Four, Ott Travers!" The young, mop-haired boy appeared on the screen. He looked overjoyed, elated to be there. You could see the carefree glint in his eyes as the picture was being taken. It was cute. He was pretty energetic and upbeat for my taste, but still a good person. "With a score of… Six!" The six floated around his name. Poor kid just lost a bunch of sponsors next to his District partner. I suppose I would expect nothing less.

"From District Five, Ezreal Valois!" The wide-eyed boy was doing his best to smile despite being gaunt and accepting his own death. It was sad, because he seemed to have a nice smile when it was real. To get him to like me, I had to be smiling ear to ear the whole time I talked to him. He promised that if he could he would help me, but he had no faith in himself. "With a score of…" Caesar frowned and creased his eyebrow. "Oh my. One." The one floated around the smiling, scared boy. I wonder what he did to earn that score. I guess he takes giving up to a new level.

"And his District partner, the lovely, um, Abigail Macbeth!" The girl was smiling largely and bouncing on her feet in the photo. She was cute, and I had to work hard to equal her energy. Also, apparently, a hard worker, who wants to survive. "And Miss Macbeth has earned a score of… Five! Not too bad there!"

"Next, District Six! Klaus Aerglo." The boy's face looked blank in the picture. They tried to get him to do something else, asking him if that was really what he wanted for the photo everyone would see of him. And he blankly said yes. Great delivery. He was fun to talk to because it was easy for me to match him, with his dry sarcastic attitude. The problem was that he gave no fucks, and I still have many fucks to give. "With a score of six!" Another halfway in between. That made me anxious to see our scores!

"And his District partner, Healy Hudson!" The girl looked angry and determined, straight ahead. She was gruff and unfriendly, but I think that she was just focused on winning, not a bad person. She was staring at the camera intensely with narrowed eyes in her picture. Like her District partner, she refused to budge when the photographer egged her to do something else. "With a score of five." Hm. Surprisingly low for someone I thought would actually have some fight in her.

"Halfway through and look at these scores! I hear we have some real ringers in our lower Districts this year, so let's see who they are!" Claudius says, smiling civilly.

"Oh, I just can't wait to see what's left in store! Let's see our next tribute!" Caesar says.

"From District Seven, Walden Whitmore!" the aforementioned boy straightens up on his seat, grinning. I hope he scores the lowest score, even lower than little District Five! "With a score of…" We're all holding our breath. "Hehe, seven! Appropriate, knowing the District!" Walden crosses his arms. "Only a seven!? That's not going to make sponsors look!"

Even Katsuji deflated. "I think you should have gotten at least an eight!"

"Well you didn't, so shut up," I say, as I see my face on the screen. My heart starts beating faster.

"Mr. Whitmore's District partner, Twyla Frisk. With a score of…" It feels like the pause is forever. It's at least twenty heartbeats, I swear. It's so much time- "Seven." I release the breath I've been holding. Seven. That's not bad at all. I feel a smile spread across my face.

"Wonderful work Twyla!" Jadea says, smiling brightly at me.

I turn around just to see Walden's face. He has a pouty scowl on his face, arms crossed.

"See that, Wall Floor Ceiling!? I got the same damn score as you!" I grin and put my hands on my hips. "How do you feel now!?"

"They're just being nice to you because you're not even talented, just pretty," Walden puffs air out of his mouth angrily and I just grin wider. I did it!

"You keep telling yourself that," I say smugly, as they show the small tribute from District Eight.

"From District Eight, Savile Kigour." The mousy little tribute looked happy in his photo, determined to look happy for the last image that will ever be seen of him, if it came to that. He seemed like a pretty nice and easygoing person and it would have been nice to get to know him somewhere that wasn't here. Hopefully he goes fast. "With a score of… Five!" He did well for himself. The photo of him has a glint in the eye, as if he was proud to get that score for being so young.

"And his District partner, Miss Serena Merlo!" The picture of the girl comes up. She is quite pretty, and is smiling shyly. The photographer tried to get her to do different poses, and she really tried to keep up, but the soft-spoken, shy girl couldn't quite do what they asked. She always looked sad, but seemed to trust Walden, heaven knows why. She must be a really dumb bitch if she chooses to trust this guy. "With a score of…" Caesar deflates a little bit. "Three."

I laugh at that. "There's your ally, Bear's Den! And you think you guys are going to win!"

Walden just gives me that smirk that makes me want to shove his fist up his own ass. "Underestimate as you wish," he says lightly.

"Now, District Nine. First, we have Triton Lanser the fifth!" The tribute from District Nine was pretty friendly, and I can see the gentleness in their face in the picture. They were smiling bravely, and I can admire the bravery in their expression. It was easy to keep up with them as they weren't nearly as energetic as some of the others and I could have a lot to learn from them, if only we weren't here. "With a score of…. Four." Four is to be expected from someone as young as they are.

"And, now we have Zuzanna Heeler!" The little twelve-year-old, my Zu Pal, was giving the camera a defiant look and not smiling. The cameraman asked her to try and be cute, but Zu was about to cooperate with someone telling her how to look. She had a little curl in her lip as she scowled at the camera, trying to appear scary. She didn't look intimidating, but I would know better than to cross her. "She really should've done the cute angle," Walden sighed.

"She can do whatever she wants," I say, crossing my arms.

Walden bursts out laughing. "You're funny!" he howls, as I turn back to the television to see her score of four. The score made him laugh harder.

"From District Ten, here's Kaiser Picasso!" The boy was hulking, and truly terrifying. What I would give to see that guy show Walden who the real alpha male was. He had a determined scowl on his face in his picture, staring upwards and looking like a statue he's so sculpted. "Kaiser has earned a score of… Wow! Eight!" The number looked just as intimidating as the man it was circling around. "Well done Kaiser!"

It was funny to see the picture switch from the hulking tower of a guy to his small, innocent-looking District partner with the colorful hair. "Next, our fashion-savvy moo cow Inari Fujioka!" The girl looked so cute. She was definitely shadowing her District partner, and he definitely knew it. I watched him help her make a fire. It was almost disgusting it was so sweet to watch. I'm sure this is a classic situation of Beauty and the Beast. Or, Moo Cow and the Sheriff. Oh, I'm so funny. "With a score of… Oh my! Seven!" Her smile suddenly looked incredibly confident. She did seem confident when I talked to her and was one of those that promised to help me if she got out. I could root for her! She scored the same as me after all.

"Moo moo, she scored the same as you!" I say to Walden, cracking myself up. I get a super dramatic eye roll but I could see Katsuji trying not to laugh.

"Next up, we have Anders Bonilla Cruz of District Eleven!" The boy was quite tall and skinny, his afro making his picture zoomed out more than the previous ones. He was giving a smile that was somewhat unsure. He seemed nervous around me, which I understand because talking about murder is quite intimidating. But also he needs to buck up because we're going into the Hunger Games! "Anders has earned a score of… Oh, another seven! Lovely!"

"Hm," Walden harrumphed. Color me curious.

"And of course, his District partner, Brialle Crescent!" The young girl looks ghostly on the screen, her pale skin and pale hair standing out, especially after her District partner. I remember how hollow she looked when I talked to her, but I think she was a good kid. She had that cool streak of white hair on her head, which was cool. She was interesting to talk to and seemed thoughtful. Smart. Sadly, that won't help her in the Arena. "With a score of… Three." Yeah, about average for someone her age. It's sad, but true.

"Alright, our last District! From District Twelve, Bean Agavoli!" The small boy was beaming in his photo. Ott said something funny to make him laugh right before the photographer hit the shutter. It was a really sweet picture, but made it sad thinking about what would happen to the weird but kind and happy kid. "With a score of… Four!" I smiled a little bit. At least it wasn't totally terrible. Maybe he would at least see a day in the Arena. I couldn't kill a kid that cute, I wonder who could. Maybe Neapolitan, that faker!

"And, last but certainly not least, Melanie Cethin!" The girl looked about as shy and quiet in her picture as she was in real life. She was so hard to talk to, though she's cute. I really had to tone it down to reach her. And though I don't think she'll be surviving, you never know, she is cute. And maybe her shyness is to hide some ability. The cameraman was trying to get her to look cuter and do something, but she stayed for two pictures and then scurried off to be with her allies as fast as she could. Sweet girl had a big storm coming for the interviews. "With a score of… Three." Three seems appropriate for someone like her. Seemed like a really lame note to end on, but I could still hear the crowd outside making noises and being loud.

"And there you have it Capitol, your 61st annual Training Score broadcast!" The crowd roared outside. "It's time to place your bets now folks! Who is going to be our Sixty First Victor?! Tune in tomorrow night to meet our tributes up close and personal for the 61st annual Interview Broadcast with me, Caesar Flickerman!" the crowd made more noise. "Good night Capitol, good night Districts, and good night Tributes! May the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" Even more applause.

Walden left as soon as the broadcast ended, not even mumbling a good night. I grinned at Jadea, who grinned back as Katsuji went to the kitchen to get dessert before bed.

"Congratulations Twyla!" Jadea beamed. Blight mumbled a congratulations and patted my shoulder, on his way to the shower.

"Thanks Jadea. You've been a wonderful escort."

She smiled at me, her eyes slightly brimming with tears. "It's my honor Twyla," she said, taking both of my hands in hers. "You know, I think District Seven _will_ have a Victor this year. But it won't be Walden."

"I'm going to do my best," I promise her. "But first, I'll give an interview that Panem will never forget. And I'm going to get justice for my sister."

 _ **A/N: Alright, here are private session recaps! And hopefully you can remember some things about some of the tributes!**_

 _ **CQ: Did any of the training scores surprise you and why? How do you think Ezreal got at 1?**_


	12. Spotlight

**Interviews**

-Neapolitan Hightower, 18, District 1-

Adrenaline courses through my veins as Bautista leads Zuli and I to the tram that will take us straight to the backstage area that I'd always dreamt of seeing. I feel so natural here. Sure, I've trained my heart out, shown my prowess through combat, and proven to be the most powerful alpha male in the District, but the truth is that all the killing and gore, the lack of a shower for weeks, the body odor and cooperating with a team stuff is just a chore for me to make my family proud and famous. This is the price that I have to pay for a life of luxury and glory.

"Are you ready?" Bautista asked calmly.

"I was born ready, Bautista." The escort gives a small snuff of air at that comment. Still not over his little superiority complex I see. Well then, he shouldn't ask.

"Lazuli?" Bautista asked, his tone now more annoyed.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she sighed. I'd watched her try to walk in high heels today and it was both hideous and hilarious. Of course I had to show her that I had the better balance and poise. Red stilettos.

The other tributes are following us with their escorts, but thankfully they're out of earshot and didn't have the displeasure of hearing Zuli's comment. I smooth out the light pink sparkly suitcoat I've been given to wear and tighten the white tie ever so slightly. I said it would look a bit silly with the three colors, but the inspiration is straight from my name. I think the crowds are going to love it. And I think they'll love the white bow with cherries on it that I wear on my head, to complete the outfit. It's cute and fun, and I can turn up the charm to match.

Unfortunately, I can't be the one to go first, because the females are interviewed before the males. But, you know what they say. First is the worst, second is the best. I'll have to look and see if Lori is wearing a polka-dotted dress.

"Remember, go out there and do me proud," Bautista says, once he's sure we're in the correct place to start the line and the other tributes start filing in behind us. "Don't you dare embarrass me."

Zuli takes a deep breath. It would be pathetic if she were intimidated by our escort, he's not threatening to me at all. I just give him a nice smirk and a cooperative nod.

"Remember Zules, you don't have to out-show the bear, you just have to out-show crazy Lori and Daddy Nez."

"Lori isn't crazy!" she says quickly. Too quickly. So Lori somehow has her interest, and her trust. I'll have to fix that.

"You keep telling yourself that."

Zuli clears her throat, probably thinking that the make-up on her face is hiding her blush. "Also, out-show isn't a word," she says, "You should have said upstage, not out-show."

Of course nerdy Zuli would say something obnoxiously smart like that. "Whatever your preference, I'm the bear."

"You wish," she said, "You fucking twink."

That one makes me laugh. I suppose she's right. "Nice one. Bring that charm out and you'll nail your interview for sure." I slap her on the back good-naturedly. I have to make her think I'm on her side, even if she's smart enough to know better. I know I won't be able to trick her brain, but hopefully I'll be able to trick her heart.

Lori's outfit is nothing less than an absolute atrocity. She's wearing an inflated clear body suit that goes down to her knees. Only a sparse spread of printed-on polka dots obscures her commando body under the outfit from the public eye. To make it worse, her hair is put up in a sloppy bun that's topped by a clear inflatable cop hat. I'm not sure if it's laughter that I'm holding back or vomit. Nebby Daddy looks less than pleased with her, but his outfit is more classic. He wears a clean tan suit with a golden tie that matches the cute little Valkyrie wings he wears behind his ears. Those lopsided babies that he's probably pity-wearing for someone his soft heart loves back home. Pathetic.

The rest of the tributes file in, and before I get the chance to look at Garett, they're ushering us in and telling us to be quiet as the ceremony begins. They have to go through announcements about broadcasting first, so we all have to wait, quiet but excited. Zuli looks over at me and tries to muster a nervous smile, to which I respond with a big friendly grin. This is my time.

Caesar Flickerman, who was known for his midnight blue suit, has his accent color of dandelion yellow this year. It's a… Bold choice, to say the least. I would have gone gold myself if I were going yellow, but he's the Capitolite here, he knows what the crowds think is fashionable. He seems excited as he hypes up the crowd, getting them excited for what's to come. And what they will ultimately be cheering for, of course, is me.

My heart picks up when I hear him say those beautiful words, "And now let's get started interviewing our first tribute!" My heart starts to pick up. I'm used to feeling nervous like this before a big fight, but I also feel invigorated. "Let's welcome Lazuli Romano to the stage!"

The crowd applauds and my District partner gives one last look behind her shoulder before walking out on the stage. Thankfully, the big poofy skirt of her luscious baby blue ballgown hides the fact that Zuli is wearing flats, not heals. The lace bodice made her look far less drab than she had at every other stage. Her curly hair was tamed and pulled back, to be smooth, and she was wearing a small silver tiara. It almost brought a tear to my eye, it was such a beautiful make-over. If only she could actually pull off the look by making it seem natural, but she looks like an alien trying to maneuver a human body.

She was doing everything that Whimsy told her to do appear flirty and fun, but it just wasn't working for her. The smiles looked more like grimaces, the steps and head turn were too choreographed. Everything looked tense.

"Welcome Lazuli!" The girl sat down as elegantly as she could, which wasn't much. This was hard to watch. Caesar asked her many questions about her home life, her volunteering, her friends and family, but Zuli could barely answer them. She looked like a District 11 kid out there. Bautista was going to give it to her later. And that would be exactly when I swooped in.

"Thank you so much Zuli! Is there any last thing that you want to say to the nation?"

When the cameras zoomed in on Zuli's face I could see her sweat, her nervous eyes, her frozen brain that won't move.

"I-I… Fantasy. This is for you."

The timer buzzed right on time. At least she got one thing right. Caesar presents her to the crowd and Zuli gives another grimace-smile and waves her hand before bowing with him.

My heart pounds in my chest as I realize that this is it. This is the moment I've been waiting for my entire life. It's becoming so good it's surreal.

"And now, let's welcome, the incredibly charming Neapolitan Hightower!"

Hearing my name boom out across the speakers causes a spur of emotions in my chest. I quickly get into motion and walk out on the stage, hearing the applause of the people, knowing that in that moment it was all mine, for me, makes me feel even more emotional. This is so hard to believe. How is this happening to me!?

"Welcome Neapolitan!" Caesar is shaking my hand. The crowd is full. People are quieting down, I'm sitting in the comfortable loveseat and I know that the whole nation is watching me.

"How are you feeling tonight Neapolitan?" Caesar asks.

I realize that my eyes are misting. I let it go. I don't need to be the toughest, strongest guy out there. The crowd will like me better if I take the initiative and be likable.

"Honestly… I feel… So proud." I sniffle and feel the tears push out of my eyes and roll softly down my cheeks. "It's such an honor to be here tonight. I am happy that I can make my family proud back home, and my friends. And… My darling."

"Aw, now isn't that touching?" Caesar asks the crowd, some of whom murmur in response. "Here is a young man that is ready to serve his District and his country!" The statement is met with thunderous applause. Beautiful. That brings a huge grin to my face.

"Thank you, thank you. I love my country, and I love my District. There's nowhere else I would rather have called home."

"You mentioned your family. I assume that you are close with them?"

"We're thick as thieves," I say, smiling at the thought of my parents watching me. "I'm so thankful to my Mama and my Puma."

Caesar's mouth is agape. "A puma!? Aren't those extinct!?"

I give a laugh. "They are, no need to worry Caesar. Puma is what I call my second parent. They're genderfluid, and I came up with the name when I was a kid, to say Pa and Ma at once."

"Oh, creative! It seems that District One has sent us a very well-rounded young man!" Caesar says, to which the crowd applauds again.

"Thank you Caesar. Trust me, that creativity and my other skills will follow me into the Games as well."

"I would be disappointed if they didn't," he says with wink. "How long have you dreamt of volunteering for the Hunger Games?"

"Honestly, Caesar, my whole life. I always promised my parents that I would volunteer to thank them for adopting me, to prove that I was the right choice for them. I wanted to bring them pride, money, fame. Respect. They never made me feel like I had to volunteer to have worth. I just knew that I had to do this for them for our family."

"Well, it seems that you come with honorable goals, and we wish you the best in them." The crowd applauds wildly at that, and my smile somehow widens, which I didn't think was possible.

"Thank you, thank you."

"We don't have much time left, but I want to know if there's anything else that you want to say before you go."

"To my family. I'll come home to you soon and make you proud. To my friends, thanks for supporting me and I'll see you next year on this stage. And, to my darling, I am going to come home to you and we can be together forever when I'm back." The crowd whooped and applauded about that. Thankfully Caesar doesn't have time to ask about that before the buzzer rings. Nice to leave them all on a zinger.

"Give it up for Neapolitan Hightower!"

The crowd applauds and yells as Caesar takes my hand and raises it, and I take a big bow, blowing kisses to everyone in the crowd as I leave the stage. Damn, my cheeks hurt from grinning so much.

"Nice," Zuli says, half-heartedly. Now's my chance to get her while she's vulnerable.

"Hey, you did well too. And you'll prove what you have to show in the Games. I've seen what you can do. They'll see it too."

Zuli gives me a skeptical but grateful look. "Thanks," she said. "You're right."

I hold up my hand for a high five, which she awkwardly returns as Lori waddles on the stage trying to strut. Zuli laughs a little and covers her mouth with her hands.

"You think you're not gonna be better than that?"

"Don't be mean to Lori, she's our ally," Zuli says.

"Welcome Lori!" Caesar says, starting the interview. Throughout the interview, Lori keeps giving Caesar that smile she gives to everyone. She has mastered the flirty angle for her interview, giving the smiles and the lip bites just right.

"Wow, flirty as always," I say, smirking.

"That's her personality," Zuli says, as Lori gives Caesar wide eyes and a large smile.

"Oh, really, her personality. She's been putting on that charm Zuli. You're just falling for it because she's a girl and I'm not."

Zuli has a moment of realization that her beautiful eccentric tropical flower might actually be taking advantage of her. "What? No, that's not what's going on."

"She's flirting Caesar's ass off," I say with a shrug. It's true. "Look at her."

We watch as Caesar asks, "What inspires your fashion?"

"Oh, I'm inspired by the greatness of myself and the world around me! But now I'll be designing something inspired by your eyes, Honey."

That makes the realization spark in Zuli's eyes. "Oh my God."

"I know that we're not buddy buddy, and that's fine. But don't let her take your chance Zules."

"Zules dies now."

"I'll leave it between us."

Lori twirls around in her giant balloon as Caesar announces her one last time, and waves as she walks off the stage.

"Good job," I say, giving her a smack on the balloon that sends my hand flying the other way.

"I know," she says, smiling and trying to sit. The balloon makes her slide off the seat, and I hide my laugh as Nebuchadnezzar walks on the stage, head held high.

Nebby Daddy's interview is the typical strong guy interview. He does a lot of nodding and shaking his head, which is surprising considering he's so easy to trample on when he's in the group of Careers. But, at a towering height and a formidable build, he certainly looks the part. He acts it well. Although it's pretty easy to act, just look mean and nod or shake your head.

Caesar does get a little out of him asking about his family, though. Of course that's what he wants to talk about.

"I like to train, and volunteered to inspire my little siblings. You can do whatever you want, if you put your mind to it."

The declaration gets applause from the crowds, who are into the strong beefcake angle. He talks about the boy he was fighting on the way to the podium, a story the crowds love, and how he was poisoned by him the night before.

"That means his mouth is weak. Still blistered," I tell Zuli under my breath, and she nods. The crowds send him off with plenty of applause, and he walks off keeping that resolve under check.

"Yay Daddy!" Lori says when he walks back in.

"Oh, for God's sake," he grumbles, face-palming.

"Nice work Daddy," I say, giving him a wink and laugh at his pouting. He's so easy to get a rise out of.

Caesar then announces the next tribute, Job Markov. The poor scrappy little dog.

Job was wearing a classic black suit that brought out the brightness of his blue eyes against the darkness of his black hair, which was adorned by a silver headband with leaves. He looked good, and with that smile he could easily win over the crowd. He had a charming smile on, which makes me curious as to what the little bastard's going to do.

Job is perfectly snarky, charming, and joking. He must have let himself go from the depressed mess he was throughout training. He and Caesar have fun banter that keeps the crowd interested. That's District Three's job, of course, keep them interested for Garrett's interview.

"So Job, what's going to drive you in this Games?"

Job's façade suddenly shatters. "Um, I'll be driven by faith, mostly. That's what will drive me through these Games."

Caesar looks surprised. "I see. Well, it's good to have someone with your confidence. If you believe in yourself, I know you can do this!"

Job gives a laugh that sounds slightly aggressive. "Of course."

The buzzer rings thankfully and Job is presented to the crowd before walking off the stage, where he immediately shrinks away from all of us. As it should be.

"Next up, please welcome Heiko Spate!"

The boy from District Three walks on stage, wearing a bright green suit and a dark blue tie. He looks like a good sport about it at least. Heiko has the perfect snarky smirk on his face and looks right at home as Caesar asks him questions. He has a witty charm to him, making the crowd laugh and keeping them engaged, priming the stage for Garrett. However, watching him answer the questions, I realize that he's not giving very specific answers. He's trying to stay mysterious, which will do him well. He'll definitely be a threat to take out.

"Any last words for the crowd, Heiko."

"I'm doing this for you," he says, not specifying who he's taking to. "It might be hopeless, but… Don't give up on me yet."

The crowd applauds at the mysterious last response as Heiko waves to the crowd and walks off the stage. I look to see his District partner's reaction. He looks over, but stays where he is with a sigh.

The crowd is still engaged, it seems, which is the reaction that I want. Hopefully, Garett's little twerp District partner won't mess that all up.

~.~.

-Ott Travers, 15, District 4-

The scene keeps replaying through my head as the interviews begin, faster and faster.

" _No! I'm not wearing a gown."_

" _I thought they were saying that trans people can wear clothes that are coded for the other gender!"_

" _I don't feel comfortable. I've been female-coded enough and I don't want to wear that."_

" _Listen sweetie-"_

" _Don't call me that."_

" _I've spent a whole year working on this gown!" Winona says, crossing her arms. "I worked so hard and you're going to wear it!"_

" _I'd rather go out there butt naked than wear that."_

" _You don't get to call the shots here!" she shrieks at me, and I draw back. I hate being yelled at, but it's a normal occurrence._

" _I get to have a say in what I wear when I'm presented in front of the entire nation!"_

" _Yeah, you're presented on my behalf! On behalf of your District!"_

" _And if you don't compromise, you won't be presenting anything."_

" _I modified this for you!"_

" _Without my permission!"_

" _Get in the gown!"_

" _I would rather wear the ugly sushi outfit out there than that!"_

 _Winona's face goes red and she storms out of the room. A few seconds pass that feel like hours, before someone comes in and tells me that my styling team is finally willing to compromise._

This doesn't feel like a compromise, though. They said it would be a top and skirt, but what they showed me wasn't what I wanted at all.

I swallow hard as I adjust the two-piece dress. The top is sparkly, strapless, and red, and the skirt is plain red satin. I feel uncomfortable and dysphoric. I never wanted to wear dresses. This isn't what I wanted. How will anyone see me for what I want to be when I'm dressed like this!?

 _Evianna looks disappointed, but doesn't say anything. We just walk to the tram in silence._

" _You look nice," Garret says, with a small awkward smile. Of course he would think so._

" _Are you happy now?" I ask my District partner. I'm sure this is poetic justice. Seeing the dirty girl finally dressed how she SHOULD be._

" _I'm sorry?" Garret looks over._

" _Are you happy now that I've been dressed like a show dog?" The glossy lipstick on my face makes me feel uncomfortable and heavy, just wrong. This isn't what I want, and there's nothing I can do to change it without embarrassing myself. I wish I could just be confident with my masculinity and not care what I was wearing. I was just reinforcing gender stereotypes all because I couldn't wear a fucking dress…_

" _What are you talking about?" he asks, his voice becoming aggressive._

 _I can't believe him. I stop in my tracks. "Are you happy now that I'm dressed like a girl?!" I ask him, tears stinging my eyes. "Are you happy that I look like what I was born as!? Huh Garret?! Are you happy!? Have you found your beautiful justice?!" a tear falls out of my eye and rolls down my cheek._

" _Ott, please," Evianna says, gesturing for me to come._

" _What are you saying?" Garret asks, walking towards me._

" _After trying to separate myself from the binary of the Hunger Games having a boy and a girl this entire time, it's all in vain." Tears roll down my cheeks. "Nobody is going to take me seriously now. You win."_

" _Me!? What do I have to do with any of this?! Ott, what are you saying?"_

" _I know why you've been avoiding me," I say, looking away from his face._

 _There's a long moment of silence._

" _Come on boys," Evianna says. Garret doesn't move._

" _That's… Oh God… That's not what I meant at all."_

 _I look at him through a teary eye. His face, which was hard, is now relaxed._

" _I don't care if you're trans or not, Ott. I just… It's the Hunger Games. I can't make friends here. I didn't mean to make you feel like this, though."_

 _I glance back up at him. Boy do I feel stupid. "Oh…"_

" _I'm sure you're used to the cold shoulder, and I'm sorry. And I swear if we weren't here…"_

 _I sniffle some of the snot dripping out of my nose. "I'm sorry I went off on you…"_

" _I don't blame you. You've just been conditioned to think that way because that's usually what happens to you. But…" Garret swallows hard, and puts his hands on my shoulders. You're a hell of a man, Ott. I admire you for how strong you've been through all this." He wipes his eye casually with a hand. "And I will fight for respect for you. No matter what happens. But we really can't be buddies here."_

 _I swallow a lump in my throat. "I understand."_

" _You can do this interview and you can earn their respect. I'll be in your corner… As much as I can. Which… Isn't much, given where we are."_

" _Okay…" I murmur. Garret turns around to start back to Evianna, who is waiting impatiently for us. I hurry up and follow, glad I've been given sandals to wear instead of heels. "Garret… I don't blame you."_

 _Garret gives me a slightly sad smile. "Thanks, kid."_

 _District Five is already there, ready to be lined up for the interviews. When we arrive, the other escorts make faces at us, displeased with our tardiness. I wipe my eyes again, trying to stop the tears from coming. When Bean enters, his face falls. My ally hurries over to me._

" _Ott! Are you alright?"_

 _I sniffle and try to compose myself. My ally doesn't deserve to see me this way… "I'm alright."_

 _Bean throws his arms around me and gives me a tight hug, which I quickly return. He makes me feel like it's okay to let it all out, even if it isn't. I resist burying my face in his shoulder to prevent from getting make-up on his suitcoat, but he holds me tightly, which is all I need in that moment._

" _I should get back with Mel," he says. "Just try your best. You don't have to go out there, we could do it without you. We could figure it out. I'm here to help you."_

" _I don't want to wear this," I say, covering my belly and feeling worse about my body._

" _I know. I'm sure we can come up with something. Maybe we could, um…" Bean starts thinking, and I feel better, knowing that he's going to help me._

" _Here!" I look up at a voice I don't recognize. The tribute from District Nine hurries over._

" _I'm sorry, this is kind of personal…" I sniffle, not wanting other tributes to see me cry._

" _Wear my suit."_

 _I look over at them, in shock. "I'm sorry?"_

" _Shush, they're starting!" Lori whispers harshly back at us._

" _Are you serious?"_

" _We have to hurry," they say, quickly taking their pants off. "Come on."_

 _I jolt into action realizing that this is a legitimate offer._

" _Help me," I whisper to Bean, who unclasps the back of the top and I throw it off. The tribute strips off their suitcoat and shirt, throwing them in a pile as Bean helps unzip the side of the skirt and I slide it off. I kick off the sandals and slide them towards my helper._

" _Get in line you two-" the Peacekeeper in charge of us whispers sharply, before realizing that we're both in our underwear. Bean gives me a smile and runs off to keep his place in line. Lori is already interviewing. My heart starts pounding as I hurriedly pull on the shirt and pants that are so tight on my that I can't possibly button them the whole way. The shoes are at least half a size too small for me and my toes are practically ripping out of the socks already. I quickly button the shirt._

 _I help the District Nine tribute zip and button the dress that is too big for them and that was made for someone with actual boobs. They slide on the sandals._

" _Thank you so much. Triton?"_

 _They give me a smile. "Call me Blair."_

" _Blair. Thank you so much."_

 _Blair's mouth spread into a grin. "Thank you." They scurried back to their spot._

I zip the pants up and suck in my stomach to be able to button them. It's not comfortable, but it feels way better than that outfit I was wearing.

I wrap the tie around my neck and start to tie it. How was it…? Fuck, I can't forget… My heart picks up and I start to panic.

"Ott?" Garret turns around. He's about to walk on stage. "Let me."

"You have to go-" Garret kneels down, biting his lip, and quickly ties it, hands shaking slightly.

On stage, Caesar announces his name.

"Go!" I say, but he stays there until he gets it tied, which is only a second before he gets up, bounces once in place, and quickly bounds on the stage. The applause that had died off was now full once again with his arrival. I touch the knot, which was tied tight and perfectly center, and feel a smile spread across my face.

"Ott!" I look back at Blair, who points to their lips. I reach up to take off the lipstick, but instead I decide against it. Just to show my stylist that I didn't hate everything about her outfit.

My heart is still pounding from the adrenaline of changing and feeling far better in this outfit. He looks good in the perfectly-tailored aqua suit decorated with blue waves. He hypes up the crowd and is very high-energy, which they love. I smile when he talks about his girlfriend and how he's going to fight for her. He's a good guy.

When Caesar sends him off, he receives an earthquake of applause. I'm happy that he does. After helping me, he deserves the appreciation.

Suddenly, it's time for my interview. Perhaps I look silly in a suit that's far too small for me, but it makes me feel confident. I take a deep breath as Caesar announces, "Please welcome Ott Travers!"

I walk out on the stage, keeping my stomach sucked in as I wave to the crowds. The coat is squeezing my arms and making me sweat in the hot lights, but it's what I want. Maybe it's ugly beige, but I like the red tie, I think it's slick.

"Hi there Ott. You look… Mighty dapper tonight."

That word makes a grin spread across my face. "Thank you! I couldn't have done that without the help of a very good friend." I smile and glance back at the backstage area. "A friend who I hope will join my alliance in the Games."

The audience is interested and I grin.

"Oh? This is interesting! We'll have to see who it is, and if they accept the request!"

"I sure hope so." I smile, thinking about Blair helping me without hesitation. I hope they feel as good as I do right now.

The interview flies by. Caesar asks me questions that I answer easily, but can't remember what they are. I try to remember what I learned from my mentors about answering questions, but most of all decide to enjoy this time. I look how I want to and I won over my insensitive, insufferable stylist. It's a great feeling.

When I'm bowing for the crowd, I can feel my fly bust open. I'm glad it made it through the interview. I wave to the crowd and hurry my ass off the stage.

I feel relieved when I can kick off those tiny shoes and socks, and unbutton the pants.

"Nice work," Heiko says. Nobody else speaks as I take a seat up on a table to watch the rest of the interviews. Garret glances back at me and I can see him smiling as they announce Ezreal Valois from District Five.

The boy from District Five looks sleek in a shining silver tuxedo and a maroon bowtie. He is beaming as he happily skips on the stage. Caesar seems to work off of his energy throughout the course of the interview. He makes the crowd laugh frequently, which is good for him. Just from watching, I like him. He's a good guy it seems, dealt a bad lot. He gets sympathy from the crowd when he talks about having a heart condition, and it's all going well.

"Condition or not, training score aside, what is the biggest strength you have going into the Games?"

"Oh, I don't have any."

Caesar is aghast. "You…"

"It's alright, Caesar. You're really good at finding the positive in everything, but there just isn't one here. I'm not going to change into a killer, it's not who I am. I'm a guy that just wants to spread love, and killing isn't something that I'm going to do. Nobody can make me into that person that I'm not."

Caesar is aghast, but looks relieved when the buzzer rings. Who knows if it was actually three minutes?

Ezreal comes back, his face looking tense. He collapses into the first chair he sees, taking a deep breath. I glance over, but watch as his District partner comes out.

She's wearing a beautiful light purple ballgown with frilly capped sleeves and a unique frilled skirt. She looks over the moon in the little turtle hairpiece that holds her bangs away from her face. She would have been a good asset, but it was too late for that.

Throughout her painfully honest interview, her District partner is wheezing and grabbing his chest. She talks about her name, which she didn't know, and her whole life being called Turtle. She talks about her family, or lack of. Her brother Python, who she loves and never hurt her, and the parents she never knew and never cared to know.

"What about friends, Abi- er, um, Turtle? Do you have a lot of friends back home?"

Turtle froze. After a pause, she said. "My best friend is actually…. My brother. He's the only friend I ever had."

Ezreal coughs and clutches his chest, his eyes looking lifeless and sad. Turtle looks somber and sad for the rest of her interview. She is met with half-hearted applause as she tries to smile at the crowd, but the truth is that her interview was rough. When she came back, Ez started to choke. Turtle ran over to him.

"Ez!" she shouted, running over. "Ez!" As Healy Hudson went on the stage, people in white uniforms came in and took him away, Turtle watching in horror. "Ez…" She whimpered, and then burst into tears.

Over her tears, Healy's interview was unimpressive. The girl wore a sleek gray pantsuit with a white button shirt and sleek black heels, her hair in a sleek updo. She cleaned up nicely, but wasn't a charmer. Caesar asked her questions and for most of them, the girl just shrugged and said nothing. Family? Nothing. Friends? Nothing. Favorite part of the Capitol? Only a shrug, no answer. Caesar's really trying to help her play the mysterious card, but it was obviously just a not caring angle. I can't really blame her.

"Healy, are there any last words you'd like to say before you go?"

The girl pursed her lips. "I'm dangerous. And I'm coming home."

"There you have it! Don't count her out yet!" The buzzer rang just then and Caesar presented her to the crowd. "Healy Hudson, everyone!"

The crowd gave her half-hearted applause as Caesar saw her off the stage.

"Next up, please welcome Klaus Aerglo!"

The crowd applauded for Healy's District partner, who looked plenty snazzy in a dark indigo suit with a hot pink bowtie. He had an easy smirk on his face as he walked across the stage to meet Caesar. He has an easy aura to him as he sits down on the loveseat across from Caesar. From the beginning, he banters with Caesar easily, and the two men find a groove with their witty banter that made the crowd laugh.

"Klaus, what's your biggest strength in that Arena?"

"Well, besides my obvious beautiful face and sharp wit, I have some tricks up my sleeve. Don't count me out."

"Wasn't counting on it!"

"The only thing you need to count on is me coming home," Klaus says, and the crowd explodes with applause at his confidence. It was a high note to end on.

Klaus comes back, taking a deep breath and plopping in a chair.

Caesar announces a commercial break as we've made it to halfway, and I sigh. It was fun to watch at first, but now I just feel sore and elated, but also exhausted. I just have to focus on waiting for interviews to go by and see if Blair takes up my offer.

All I have left to do is sit and wait.

~.~.

 _ **A/N: I'm back and the first half of interviews are officially up! Hope you enjoy these and the drama. I went a little more lowkey on the interviews for time and length's sake. I hope you enjoyed them and the ensuing drama! Let me know what you thought!**_

 _ **CQ: Do you think Blair wants to ally with Ott and Bean? Will the Careers survive this drama? Will Ez be okay?**_

 _ **See you next chapter, hopefully soon!**_


	13. Just A Moment

-Serena Merlo, 16, District 8-

My dress feels tight. Is my dress too tight? Am I suffocating slowly? It feels like I'm suffocating slowly in this dress. Maybe it's not the dress, I think it's just me. What if I say something wrong and make people upset? What if I say something that makes my friends and family believe that I don't want to come home? There are so many things I could do wrong. And if I do one small thing wrong, people will know. Everyone will know, and then I'll be doomed, the Gamemakers will jump on me and have me dead quicker than I ever thought.

I try to calm myself down and think about what Stafford said. There was just so much that she said, so many things that she had to do, so many things that she just simply couldn't do or else it was all over.

I pull on the three-quarters sleeves of the silky garment. It wasn't what I was anticipating wearing, but it wasn't the worst thing I could have imagined. I passed the heels test, so I wear a pair of heels that are mostly covered by the long skirt with white silk accented with red-violet flowers and orange lace. There's a matching hat with a floppy brim that I wear over an elegant updo.

I watch as Caesar is announcing Twyla Frisk, my ally's District partner. The girl from Seven is wearing a one-shoulder navy dress covered in sequins that doesn't leave much to the imagination. With a low-cut bodice and a slit that starts towards the top of her thigh, she looked sexy and gorgeous. She's a naturally pretty person, accentuated by the glamor of the make-up and elegant hairstyle with tendrils hanging down. And she was wearing gorgeous heels that did wonders for her figure.

"Twyla, welcome!" Caesar looks strictly at her face, which I doubt the rest of the crowd will be looking at, unfortunately. I don't want to objectify anybody, but her breasts are certainly distracting because they're so… Prominent.

Twyla's angle doesn't match her interview, however. When she first talked to me, she seemed incredibly quiet and meek. Now, she was fiery and headstrong. She seemed to open herself up, talking about her dearly loved sister and her mother, stepfather, and stepbrother. She talked candidly about her relationships with her family and her life back in District Seven. After hearing her yelling across the training center, it was an interesting turnaround.

"Is there anything you would like to say?" Caesar asked.

Twyla takes a deep breath. "My sister Annie was the light of my life, and she was killed. For all of this time, I thought it was someone who it wasn't. I'm so sorry Maddox. I want to be your daughter. I want to come back and get back what I was pushing away. The one who killed my sister was her boyfriend, Harry Openshaw." I watched a her eyes filled with tears. Tears that couldn't have been fake. "I loved her so much and as long as he's alive, my family is in danger. Please, someone hear my cries for help. I can die, or live, I just want justice for my sister. Please don't let it go unnoticed." Caesar presents Twyla to the crowd before her buzzer rings, and the girl comes back with tears still in her eyes. That poor girl… But also, I'm glad that I don't have to follow that interview. If anyone could, it's Walden.

I wring my hands nervously. I know I don't have to be nervous for my ally. He assured me that he knew what he was doing, and I believe him. He's a great catch, really fun and charming, and he'll surely have a great interview. I feel nervous and excited as he walks out on stage. He has that attractive smile on his face and holds up a hand to wave to the crowd.

Caesar looks happy to see him after having such a difficult interview with the District Six girl. She barely wanted to answer any of his questions. Now Walden was going to come steal the show for himself and Serena.

Caesar asks him questions about both his home life in District Seven and his time in the Capitol, on the road to the Arena. Walden seems completely cool and unphased, telling Caesar exactly what the crowd wants to hear. He comes across as both strong and charming, and a shoe-in for the Victory.

"So Walden, let's talk Games strategy. Can you inform us about anything that you're doing to take on the Games? Strategy, weapons, _allies_?"

I feel relieved that he asked. This will set me up for a good interview and give me some good talking points when I go out on stage.

"Oh, I can't disclose anything!" Walden says, smirking. "Can't let my competition know anything that's coming at them."

"Well, it seems that you are certainly a force to be reckoned with!" Caesar says. Why didn't he mention me at all? Surely that would be something worth revealing, wouldn't it? Why didn't he tell the crowds about me? He wasn't exactly playing the mysterious angle up until that point… Is he embarrassed of me?

 _Try not to overthink it_ , I warn myself. _Walden is nice, and he's my friend. He approached me, after all, so he wouldn't be embarrassed of me. He probably just wanted to keep me a surprise, a secret weapon maybe?_ Either way, I decide that he knows best, and I would follow along with the example he set and keep our partnership on the down-low. I'm used to that. At least our interviews are back to back… I can try to keep up the energy. I just hope I can compare.

My blood runs cold when I realize that I'm next.

I don't think I can do this… I really can't do this. I'm going to mess something up, something… I feel myself start to panic. I can't do this…

I hear Caesar say what I presume is my name, in his booming voice, but I can't make my body move. Suddenly I don't feel so sturdy on these high heels. I can't even make myself move at all. I'm taking too long, too long, I can't disappoint my ally by giving a bad interview. I feel my resolve crashing until I'm bumped forward by someone, maybe a tribute, maybe one of the security guards backstage, and I stumble onto the stage. I try to hurry, making up for lost time, when I land wrong on my foot and twist my ankle. Pain envelopes my ankle and foot as I continue to hobble to the stage, my stage smile completely gone. Thank goodness they pinned the hat into my hair…

I can hear Caesar talking, but I can't make out what the words are. I'm just trying not to throw up. If I can sit here these three minutes without vomiting, I'll be golden. That's all I can think about right now. Don't puke, don't puke.

Caesar says something else, but I still can't focus on him. All I can focus on is taking deep breaths to try and calm my beating heart, try to keep my dinner down. I can hear myself breathing into the microphone, I can see Caesar looking at me expectantly, but I can't manage to get out an answer. Hell, I don't even know what the question was! God, I look like such an idiot. I'm letting everyone down right now and being an embarrassment to every one of them. I'm embarrassing my family, my friends, and especially Walden.

Walden. He gave such a good interview, and here I am completely dropping the ball. I can't let that happen. I have to get back the time that I've lost _. Speak, Serena. Speak._

"I'm alright," I say quickly. "Just a little slip-up." I think that's what he was asking. I hope that's what he was asking.

"Oh, there she is. Well, I'm glad to hear that!"

 _Keep going. Keep being okay. Keep up the act, just like always._ "I can be a little bit of a clutz sometimes, Caesar, but I can reign it in when it matters the most."

"You gave us quite a start there! We're just glad to know you're okay."

The crowd applauds, and it's louder than I ever imagined it. I want to hear it more. I want them to cheer louder. I want to fill the room with cheers. It's a good feeling to be applauded for, recognized. Seen.

"Thank you, Caesar, thank you everyone." I put my stage smile back on.

"Now that we know you're doing fine, let's talk about your home life. What is your biggest driving force to return to District Eight?"

"Well… Family and friends. That's the first answer that comes to mind personally. But, in all honesty, I'm not sure if I say that out of love or obligation."

I can see the crowd leaning in. They like me! They really like me!

I continue, "I know that you're supposed to serve and love the people that you call your friends, the people that share your blood. But sometimes I'm not sure if the efforts are returned." This is getting easier by the second. The crowd cheers and applauds, and I feel validated. For the first time, I'm not a ghost. For the first time I'm in the spotlight! I never thought I would like it, but… Well, I do. I really do. And I don't care if that makes me selfish. I just want one second to enjoy that is my very own. And this is it. "I think that the real reason that I have to get home is for me. So that I can do what I've always wanted to do, without fear of judgement or worry about what others think. I owe it to myself to win." The crowd applauds at this. To think that they liked me for what I was honestly thinking… I can't believe it.

"Well, that's very strong of you to say here, Serena. Unfortunately, we're running out of time already, so I'll ask if there's anything left that you want to say to the nation, the crowds, and the people waiting for you at home."

I take a second to think about that. These words could hold a lot of power. I could use them however I wanted… I have to figure out what to say quickly.

I realize after thinking about it…

"No. I don't have anything left to say, to anyone." The grin on my face isn't fake anymore.

"Well, there you have it!" I hear the buzzer ring and the applause starts. That applause that I would love to hear again someday. The feeling of holding my hands in the air with Caesar and taking a big, dramatic bow sends electricity through my body, it makes me feel alive again. I walk off the stage confidently, the pain in my ankle barely bothering me anymore.

I finally understand what it's like to be known. And now that I've gotten a taste of it, I never want to be a ghost again.

I'm still living on the adrenaline as Caesar announces my District partner.

"Now ladies and gentlemen, I present Mr. Savile Kigour!"

My District partner takes a deep breath and then walks out on the stage. When he hears the applause, he perks up. He looks flashy in the cyan suit he was given to wear by his prep team. I feel my heartrate pick up as I start to worry about my interview.

Casear asks him questions, and Sav keeps the energy up high. He's naturally a very likable personality, so it's not a surprise to me that the crowd loves him. He talks about his family, and about each of his friends, giving them each a special shout-out. I wish I had friends I was so close to like that. I do have friends, I just… I don't know. I just hope they're doing alright without me I guess. I'm sure they are.

"Sav, you seem like a likable person! Surely you have some kind of teammate that you'll be tackling the Arena with! What do you say?"

"I'm still not exactly sure, but I've been talking to ABC from District Eleven. I got to know him while other tributes were in their private sessions, and he seems very trustworthy. I think that if we do work together, we'll make a great team!" The crowd applauds at that, seeming to love it. I didn't know he had actually found an ally… That's a good thing, though. I couldn't imagine him making it alone in the Games.

"Well, I hope that works out for you, Sav." They continue to talk about some random stuff until his buzzer rings, and he's presented in front of the nation.

"Everyone, please welcome Zuzanna Heeler!"

The young girl had a cute smile on her face as she went out on the stage. She was wearing a short coral ballgown with a wide poofy skirt and a necklace of pearls around her neck. Even the twelve year old is going to make a better impression than me. I clench my fists as I watch her go out with that disgusting cute smile on her face. This whole time she'd been trying to get everyone to see her as a threat, but for the crowd she was going to be the cute twelve-year-old they all wanted. Ugh.

Zu gave a friendly, giggly, disgusting interview. She engaged with Caesar in lively conversation about how much she adored the Capitol and how much she hoped that her alliance would grow to be four rather than two. She talked about how she tried and failed to make some older allies, but was happy at the thought of having more older tributes among their ranks. She happily talked about being the middle child with two sisters, and her mother, who she loved very much. Then came the stupid sob story.

"No father?"

"Oh, um, he walked out on us. I was two, it was right after my sister Annie was born. I didn't really get to know him well, so I couldn't tell you much about him. Though it hurt my mother, she came out stronger in the end." Here come the tears, perfectly cinematic. I hate how she can command tears like that. "It was hard to grow up without that figure, that presence in my life," she said. "But it made all of us stronger. I shouldn't be counted out yet."

The crowd _loves_ that, showering her with applause. If only I had tragedy and a cute face like she does. She smiles and waves as she walks off the stage.

"Everyone, please welcome, Triton Lanser the Fifth!"

The District Nine tribute is certainly making a statement in the two-piece dress, the top of which is covered in sparkles with a flared maroon skirt. The outfit was too big for the younger tribute, but not so big that it was comical-looking. That's sad, though, because it would have been better for me to have a less impressive interview following me.

"Oh my!" Caesar says in surprise at the outfit. "That outfit makes quite the statement!"

The young tribute beams at this, giving the crowd a twirl, which makes them applaud and brings some sickness to my stomach. They're going to outshine me at this rate. I really can't afford for that to happen.

"I've always dreamt of wearing a beautiful dress like this, Caesar," they say. "I wasn't opposed to the original suit that I was supposed to wear, but since the chance to wear this gorgeous piece of work came up, I couldn't say no."

"Let's acknowledge the stylist of this beautiful work." The cameras showed a shocked-looking stylist.

"Not that one!" Blair said, "We're actually honoring the District Four stylist for this outfit!" The camera panned over to where the stylist was sitting, her face unreadable.

Caesar of course _had_ to know the story behind what happened. Blair happily explained that Ott didn't feel comfortable in the designated outfit, but Blair gladly switched him, dress for tuxedo. They courageously explained to the crowd their preferred name and pronouns, Blair. Blair Lansing. It was very brave of them, though they seemed open about it from the start.

"So, surely you watched Ott's interview. I'm guessing you're the friend he was talking about?"

Blair smiles. "I reckon I am."

"We have to know, Blair. What do you say? Are you going to join Ott in the Arena?"

There was a long silence. They obviously were drawing it out for the suspense. I can't believe that little bastard upstaged me like this! I should have known… I will never be anything.

"I would be happy to accept Ott's offer," they said. "I was talking about allying with my District partner, Zu, but I think that the more, the merrier! If it's okay, after all."

"And we continue to be in suspense about this friendship affair!" Caesar says dramatically.

The rest of the interview goes on the same, Blair being kind and friendly and cooperative. I feel my ears get hot. Why couldn't I interview like that? What makes them more deserving of the glory than me!?

Walden is looking at me, but doesn't say anything.

I take a deep breath. My high of being appreciated and special is wearing off. Everyone gets that moment. I'm just as special as everyone else here.

Well, there could be a way that I would finally get my spotlight forever, prove myself to the nation, show them that I am important, I do matter.

All I have to do is win the Hunger Games.

~.~.

-Kaiser Picasso, District 10-

I can't tell you the last time I was dressed up like this. Obviously, I've never worn a suit this nice in my life, none of us have. But back home in District Ten, I didn't have a choice of clothes at all. The only thing I could wear was my prison garb. A basic jumpsuit, no pockets, no nothing. One drab color to choose from. I tried to pretend that one fit better than another, but they were all the same. None of them fit.

Now, he was here. In a beautiful chocolate brown suit with a red bandana, the chance to clean myself up and present myself to the nation how I want to be seen. If I want to have any shot at my freedom, any chance to see my mom without fear of the Gamemakers coming after me, I have to convince them that I love this country. I have to make myself so attractive to the Capitol that they give me a pass for killing one of their own. It isn't fair, though, they were the ones that were trying to hurt my mother. I couldn't let them do that. But now, I had to look out for myself.

Unfortunately, along the way, I ended up with a plus one. Trust me, not what I want. Not at all. I wasn't exactly planning for this. But at the same time, I don't know how the hell I haven't said no to her yet. Maybe if I said no earlier, I wouldn't feel the need to protect her.

"This is going so fast," Inari said quietly, next to me. Looking at her makes my stomach twist in knots. Simultaneously because I don't want to be looking out for this girl in the Games, and because she just looks so damn beautiful I can't even focus on anything.

"I don't even know how I'm going to sell myself," I say. Way to go, Kaiser. Expose your idiocy to her. That's a good thing to do to the girl you want to trust you with her life.

"There are plenty of good selling points, man! Just go be yourself!"

I can't help but smile at that. Why is she so nice and _everything_!? "Not so sure that'll work. You're definitely easier to sell to the crowd."

"Do you think so? And how do you reckon I do that, Cowboy?"

"Jailbird is more accurate than Cowboy," I sigh. "But you are the typical District Ten Babe. I- I mean, the typical District Ten bell. I mean. Ugh."

"Um… I _think_ I'm following?" She asks, cocking her head to the side, which tells me that she doesn't really understand (much to my relief).

"My point is. You work with horses and all that, which is what people think District Ten is all about."

"Okay, I'll go talk about horse shit for my interview."

"You could always fall back on your hunky cowboy beau," I say. I know it's dangerous to probe into her personal life, but I can't control myself.

"My what?!" she asks, looking more confused than ever.

"You know, your hot boyfriend. Or girlfriend. Do you have one?"

She raises an eyebrow at me. "No. Why would I want one of those?"

I want to launch into all the reasons that she would want one. Particularly, one that is a jailbird with a good heart. But that would be silly. I don't want to tell her about that. She's my competition.

"Um, so you could have some fun with someone." _Way to go right back to sex, Kaiser_. Oh dear Lordy almighty.

"I have fun with my family, though. What kind of fun are you talking about."

 _Well now you've gone and done it Kaiser._

"Well… Um…" I sigh. "Y'know…" I give a whistle for further context.

She meets me with a blank stare and a blink. "No, I don't know. What do you mean?"

"Just like…" I can't just say sex now. She'll think I'm nuts. Panicking and not sure what to say, I just whistle again, hoping she'll get it. If anything, she seems more confused.

"You're strange," she says. "But I'm going next, so we need to get in the zone."

"Get in the zone," I say, a small smile forming on my face. "Okay." I take a deep breath. There's a lot riding on this interview, and even though I didn't tell her outright that this could be the difference between the Capitol targeting me and them helping me. She's not stupid, even if she is naïve.

"Give me a squeeze for good luck," she says. This is a thing that we apparently do now. At chariots, I thought it was stupid, but she's insisted on the holding hands thing before every endeavor: each day of training, private sessions, training scores, the whole deal. I'm worried she'll try to hold hands with the person on the pedestal next to her for good luck too.

…But I can't say I don't get any comfort out of it.

I put out my hand and her hand, paler, but still just as tough and calloused from hard work, fits right into it.

"Remember. Just be you," she says quietly. "I'll see you on the other side, Kaiser." I nod. I'll hold her words in my heart.

"Please welcome… Inari Fujioka!" My District partner gives me one last nervous look and then walks out on stage. Gone are the days of the fuzzy cow costume. Now, my District partner looks absolutely stunning, in a red gown inspired by what she called a kimono. It was beautiful, with long sleeves that have clear, sparkly fabric hanging off of them, decorated with golden frills and peacock feathers. The dress melts into the floor by her high heels (which she insisted I try on, much to my dismay), which are shown by a slit that goes up to her knees. Her hair is back in an elegant bun with chopsticks sticking out of it. She looks beautiful.

I watch with pride as she engages with Caesar. I knew that she could do it, all she had to do was just go show Panem that smile. She talks about her aspirations, to make art, to break free from her cowhand job. The Capitol is eating it up. They love her, and I can only hope they like me half as much as they adore her. I mean, who wouldn't adore her? I didn't even want to and I still do.

"Arts aren't my only passion," she says, much to Caesar's interest. "There's another project I want to complete. You see, my best friend's name is Morgan. He was involved in an accident as a child, and because of it, he can't use his right arm." The Capitol coos in sympathy. "I want to make her life better," Inari says. "I want to help him. I want to design a prosthetic for her, so that she can live her life without fear."

"Well, isn't that just so heroic!? What do you think!?" The crowd roared. My stomach hasn't stopped flipping. Inari passes the rest of her interview with flying colors, and is sent off with a lot of loud applause. _Oh fuck_. That means I'm next.

I hear my name announced, and, doing my best to keep the smile on, walk across the stage.

" _Just be you,"_ I think. She's right. I have to be the version of me that Inari would both like and be proud of. Which is to say, the patriot next door. For once, the strong angle isn't going to work for me. I have to show Miss Pavlov that I am worth saving, and watching out for.

"Welcome Kaiser!" Caesar says. I try to match his energy. Anything to make them like me.

"Thank you so much Caesar."

"Another stunning outfit we have here!" Caesar says. "You look like a real rancher. Do you have experience working with animals?"

"A lot of people assume that I would, because of where I'm from, but that's not something I've done much with my life."

"Well, what have you done, then?"

I swallow hard. I can't lie. If I lie, I'm as good as dead. "Well, Caesar, I've been sent on a bad path. I've been spending my time in prison."

The crowd is shocked, but immediately interested. "Prison!? Why, you seem like such a nice young man!"

 _Don't shit on the Capitol_. "I was not always this way, Caesar. I did a bad thing once, and that's why I was sent there. I don't fault anyone for the decisions they made. Going to prison was a wake-up call for me, Caesar. I needed it. I probably deserve to stay there for longer. I'm sure I don't deserve the honor to be here, representing my District. I still should be in prison. But I was given a second chance. A second chance I don't deserve, for what I've done." I hope it's coming across as genuine. I don't mean most of what I'm saying, but these are the words that will save my life. "But I intend to use this second chance that I've so generously been given to atone for what I've done, and become a man that will serve his beautiful country of Panem, and honor his District. I want the world to know that I've changed. I don't want to be that person anymore." I can't call tears to my eye, but I think I'm just short of that level of convincing. "This is the second chance for me that I've been given out of generous mercy."

The crowd is moved by that, many of them talking and whispering amongst themselves. Caesar has a soft, sad face on.

"Kaiser, that was very brave of you. Tell me, what's waiting for you at home."

"Redemption," I say. "I want to make things right for the people I've hurt. And I want to get home to my mother. I miss her. Going to prison made me realize that I have to be the kind of son she can be proud of." I know she's proud of me, but hopefully she understands why I have to carry on the act like this.

"Well, I think that redemption is something very well in your reach," Caesar says, softly. "Tell us about your mother."

"What isn't there to say?" I ask, smiling a little. "She has always done everything she could to love me, fight for me, and protect me. I couldn't ask for a better Mom. I'm going to make you proud, Mom. You and our whole District."

"Someone is a Mama's boy!" Caesar says teasingly, and the crowd laughs and applauds. Boy I hope I'm selling it. I think I am, but you never know.

The rest of the interview goes by in a flash. Before I know it, I'm saying a last goodbye and I love you to my mother before the crowd applauds for me and I bow before briskly leaving the stage.

As soon as I'm out of view of the cameras, Inari hurries over and wraps me in a tight hug. "That was wonderful! You were amazing out there!"

"Um, thank you!" I say. Please no boner. Please no boner. Please ah fuck why now!? Thankfully she doesn't notice, just letting me go and looking back at the screen for the last four interviews. When she's not looking, I adjust quickly. God, _whyyy_?

"Everyone, please welcome District Eleven's Brialle Crescent!"

The girl from District Eleven, an anomaly because of the white streak in her hair that is showed off by her stylist, wears a green, short dress with lace short sleeves. She looks awkward as she tries to pump up the crowd with her energy. Caesar is quick to ask her about her condition, and about her home life, if she ever saw discrimination because she looked different. Kind of a dumb question if you ask me, but she handled it about as well as you could. As she got more comfortable, she became a little more subdued, as she naturally was.

"So, is there anything you can tell me about your Games plan? Any allies? We're still looking for the last person in Ott's alliance!"

"Actually, I'm allied with someone a lot like me. Melanie, from District Twelve, is my ally. We also have been talking to Ez from District Five, he's really nice!"

"Oh, you and Melanie are one in the same, aren't you? Both younger girls, from neighboring Districts. Do you think you'll be able to work together?"

"Oh, I know we can work together." She gave a huge smile that seemed somewhat forced. The awkwardness continued until her buzzer rang and she was presented to the crowd again.

"Now everyone, please welcome, Anders Bonilla Cruz!"

The boy, whose afro was sculpted perfectly, walked on the stage wearing a smile. He wears a clean, pastel yellow suit. I'm glad I wasn't wearing that, I would have gotten some sort of stain on it somehow. His interview starts off normally, talking about the Capitol, about life, about family, all that stuff. The family topic was interesting though. I can see in Caesar's eyes that he has some major tea.

"So Anders, you're not the first of your bloodline to be with us, not even in the past twenty years!"

"I suppose you're right about that Caesar."

"It must be a blessing that your family continues to join us here. Tell us, how are you related to the Osten bloodline?"

"Not by blood, actually. So, my mentor is my Uncle Donavan. He was brothers with Krissa Osten, from the Thirty-Sixth Games. I'm related by marriage, my Uncle Manuel is Maddie's husband. Confusing, I know. Basically, she was my aunt by marriage. But, of course, I never got to know her."

"What a shame. If I'm not mistaken, we also saw another family member on this stage, during the 42nd Games. Elias."

"That's right. It's uncanny how this turned out."

"Well, I'm sure your Uncle would love to have a pair of young hands helping him out in the mentor room next year. What do you think!?" The crowd applauded wildly at that. The rest of the interview was smooth sailing from there, until he was bowing for the last time.

"Next up, please welcome Melanie Cethin, of District Twelve!"

The girl was wearing a floor-length, off-the-shoulder black gown that totally washed out her olive skin and actually dulled her gray eyes. Her hair was the best part, braided and styled in an elegant updo. She was smiling, we were getting another cute angle.

Melanie was shy, but played cute, and was slightly ditzy throughout her interview. She looked innocent and confused, sweet and helpless. The helpless idea was probably not the best one at a time like this, but she was just trying to appeal to sponsors and get them to send her supplies. She talked about her alliance, how she was confident in them but stressing how young they were, and giving the cameras a cute, desperate look.

"Is there anything left you'd like to say?" he asked, thankfully signaling the end of the interview.

Melanie takes a deep breath. "I don't want to die yet. I'm too young for that. I'm going to do all that I can, but I know that I can't do it alone." That was it? She's really reaching far. She gets to do what she wants, it's her night.

"And, last but not least, please welcome Bean Agavoli, of District Twelve!"

The crowd applauded as the young boy ran out to greet the crowd. On his way, he made a funny face up close to the camera, which drew some laughter, but not much. He had on a charcoal suit with a drab black and gray tie. He was definitely high-energy, but the jokes that he threw in were too much, and everyone knew it. Despite trying to hard to be funny, he was cute, and it was hard to not root for him just a little as he was talking about how much he loves his home and his family and friends.

"So, tell us, are you the one we've been waiting for?"

Bean laughed. "I'm the one Panem's been waiting for." He stuck his tongue out in a way that was supposed to be playful, I think. "But if you mean Ott's ally, then yes!"

"Did you ever think you would ally with someone from District Four?"

"No, I had no idea! But I'm so happy. Ott is so much fun and I hope that we can become a group of four because the more the merrier! Bigger is better! We equal the Careers in size and strength! Well…. Almost. For both." The crowd laughed uncomfortably. Unfortunately, the interview continued this way until the final buzzer rang.

"Everyone, Bean Agavoli!" Bean bowed with Caesar and then came backstage.

"Thank you, Panem, for tuning into our live broadcast of interviews! Tune in tomorrow for the excitement to begin, the beginning of the 61st Annual Hunger Games!" Caesar's theme music played and he threw kisses to the crowds and each camera, laughing and smiling.

The screens in the room went black, and people started to load the tram that would take us back to the Justice Building. Strangely, two of the seats are empty on the way back. It's weird, but I don't pay much attention to it. The Capitol is known for being frivolous, after all.

The reality is that my interview is over. That can only mean one thing.

Tomorrow, I'll be fighting for my death in the Arena.

~.~.

 _ **A/N: Late night update! Hope you enjoy it whenever you're reading it! I can't wait to get to the Games, but we have one more chapter left that will check up on everyone the night before the Games before we go into the Arena and people start dying!**_

 _ **I'll update the scores before we get to the Games, I promise.**_

 _ **Also, the interview dresses/outfits have been posted on the Traveller blog, tin – toy – robots . blogspot . com if you haven't seen them yet!**_

 _ **Chapter Question: What do you think of Serena's new resolve? Will Kaiser be able to fight off his feelings? Will Ott and Bean merge with the District Nine tributes after all? Stay tuned to find out!**_


	14. Soft Light

**The Night Before**

On the first floor, Lazuli Romano was settled in bed, reading a book. She was nervous and excited for the next day, when she would begin the trek to becoming a Victor. She wanted so badly to come home to Fantasy, go back to the old life they had together when Fantasy loved her and didn't care about superficial things. Perhaps if she was a Victor, Fantasy would be with her again. Perhaps it would all turn out okay. Then again, she had caved to her ally from District Two. She thought Lori actually fancied her, stupidly. Neapolitan was a jerk, but he was right. She had been tricked. She had to keep up her barriers, to keep from being hurt. She had to win.

Her District partner Neapolitan Hightower was fast asleep. He was a little bit nervous, but it would all be worth it. And he was slowly earning the trust of his allies. He was totally confident it was all going to be alright, so he really had no trouble sleeping. Too bad he had to keep awakening himself from frightening dreams…

On the second floor, Lorelei Nyima went to bed a little bit later than expected, but not too much later. She knew that she had the pack behind her, and even if she wasn't going to win: which she was pretty sure that she was: she at least wouldn't die tomorrow. She knew it was best to enjoy sleeping in her soft, comfortable, fashionable bed while she still could.

In the other room, Nebuchadnezzar Spiros messed with the golden headpiece from his friend Chrys and felt numb. He was worried about the Games tomorrow, even if he tried not to be. He had to pretend, he knew that, but he couldn't help but worry. Maybe this wasn't all it was cracked up to be. But it was too late to think about that now. He had to just roll with the punches and do what he had to do. As painful as that sounded…

One floor up, overlooking the Capitol, sat Job Markov. He really didn't know what to do. He was feeling high after his interview, but quickly realized that he was going to die tomorrow. He wasn't sure he was ready to face that, but he had no choice. He had to find it in him to be brave enough to be a martyr. That was what he was called to by God, right? Not to hurt, not to participate in oppression like this. Not to act from his own selfless heart. Btu he had no idea how he would have the courage to do that. Surely he would act in the moment… Right?

His District partner was alone in the living room across the hall. Heiko Spate was flipping the burnt coin that his mother had gifted him. A lucky charm. A lucky token. Heiko was never the type to believe in that crazy mojo luck and magic stuff, he wasn't that level of crazy. But, he was in the Capitol, about to go into the Games. He had to believe in something. If only he had something like Job did to believe in. He wished he could believe like Job believed, so strongly and with his whole life. Even to the death. Heiko buried his head in his hands. He would have to witness it, but he really didn't want to. Job had been kind to him, a complete stranger. There was something special about her that he wanted to know more. But he would never get the chance. Heiko was able to sleep, but lightly. Trying to push down the pain. Just as always.

On the fourth floor, Ott Travers sat alone. He was glad that he had a plan, and was feeling far better than the day he was reaped. But it didn't change the fact that tomorrow could be his last meal. Ott wasn't ready to die. He felt so young. He felt so unfulfilled. He felt so afraid. He just didn't know what to do. And sleep definitely wasn't an option at that point. He would just have to brave it out. But he wasn't sure how.

His District partner was trying to sleep. Trying less successfully than he wanted to. Garrett Wylde tossed and turned and just couldn't get to sleep. Every sound was a distraction, every small glimmer of light was like the sun shining through his window. There was no way he was going to settle. His heart ached for Mari. His beautiful girlfriend could always calm him down, but she wasn't here. Why had he left her like this!? He felt like shit for leaving. He drifted off into a dreamless sleep, focused on getting back home to her.

The sixth floor was dead-silent. Klaus Aerglo was in his room with the lights on, looking at the picture of him and his friends in the bracelet he was given for his token. He had really done his best to be closed off to the other tributes, even though he knew in his heart of hearts none of them deserved to be there. They were friendly and kind, and they were all too good to be there. But there was nothing he could do about it now. Hopefully others would do the dirty work for him, so he wouldn't have to make any traps, but… Nothing was guaranteed in the Games.

His District partner Healy Hudson was asleep in the room beside him. She was focused on making her plan for tomorrow, a plan that would work, a way for her to get supplies of some sort from the Bloodbath. She was tough, she grew up that way, and she knew that she could do it if she just tried as hard as she could. She had to fight for herself, to get back to the few but important people that cared. She knew what she had to do, and she was determined. She was able to sleep: fear and adrenaline were more like old friends to her: through the night and into the morning.

On the seventh floor, Twyla Frisk went through the motions of fighting in her head. Perhaps if she rehearsed them enough, she would be able to execute them. From here on out, her eyes were on the prize: the Victory. Hopefully her interview led people to realize that Harry was a liar, but she had to be there to make sure justice was served. But now, she just sat silently. There was nothing else she could possibly do for justice. Well, nothing except for… Win.

In the room beside her, Walden Whitmore was still awake. Much to his dismay. It was silly for him to be nervous. He knew that his father would be disappointed if he knew that his son was sitting awake. His father and brother were surely sleeping well. They knew that Walden would be okay. Meanwhile, Walden was sitting here like an idiot, awake, _worried_ about something. What would they think of him!? Walden gripped his pillow tightly, wishing he could just sleep. He wasn't weak. He had his meat shield. He was going to show them all what he was made of and come home a Victor. Why couldn't he convince himself that was true?!

On the next floor up, his ally was sitting over the balcony with her feet hanging over the edge, swinging back and forth gently. She was a little scared she would fall off, even if she knew that the Capitol installed technology that would save her if she did. She just wasn't sure what she could do for herself. How could she possibly save herself? She was nothing. Serena buried her face in her hands. It was ridiculous to think she would make it alive. All she could do was her best, even though she was never enough for anybody. When would she be enough?

Her young District partner sat on their bed and threw their pillow at the ceiling. Sav's stomach felt sick. They still really couldn't believe that was happening to them. They had always been so confident that tragedy would never strike them like this. They knew that someone got reaped every year, but they would have never imagined that it would be them. They never thought they would be that generic person on television. Tears rolled down their cheeks as they laid in the dark. They now knew how everyone felt that was in their shoes. Rhythmically, they threw the pillow. Up, down. That was all they could make themself do.

The floor was being bumped above the room of Blair Lansing, who heard the quiet thumping when the pillow hit the ceiling. The thumps reminded them of their own heartbeat. A steady, low thump. Hopefully it would continue to be steady, but they couldn't know that for sure. They had a great night, but ultimately realized that it was going to end very soon. There was no way they were going to be able to be friendly and selfless in the Arena. They had never known anything different. Could they change that quickly? Blair was exhausted from the events of the night, and their body was happy to hurry to sleep before the thoughts had time to keep them awake.

Their District partner Zuzanna Heeler was pacing around her room, going over her plan over and over again out loud. She had to say it out loud. But she also was so upset and scared that she forgot the words that were coming out of her mouth, and had to stop and start again. It seemed a bit obsessive, but it made Zu feel like at least she was trying to save herself when tomorrow came. At least she was doing her best. At least she wasn't giving up. If anyone could be the first twelve-year-old Victor, it would be Zuzanna Heeler. She just had to believe in herself, and create a foolproof plan. Hopefully it would just go right. She wasn't ready to be another faceless Bloodbath death. Zu was going to make an impact.

One floor above them sat the District Ten pair, together in the common room. Inari Fujioka was up first. She knew that she wouldn't be able to sleep and figured she might as well spend the time out of her stuffy, dark bedroom. She was comforted by drinking milk, it made her think about back home when she could get a treat. It wasn't much: there were a lot of relatives to feed back on the farm: but it was still a memory of home. Something that she could hold onto. Perhaps that was why she and her District partner were going to be allies. He was something like her home, after all, and she was the promise of freedom in District Ten he needed. Hopefully that would be enough for one of them to make it home…

As she was thinking, her District partner Kaiser Picasso came out to join her. The ex-criminal had been plagued with dreams not of his own endangerment, but that of his District partner. It was exhausting. He had gone out for a drink and to try and calm down, and was relieved to see his District partner there, unharmed, having some milk. He asked if he could sit with her, and she was certainly happy to have the company and talk his ear off, about stuff that would seem mundane, but was the only thing keeping her from thinking about the Games. Not so mundane after all. They stayed out together until Inari fell asleep leaning against his shoulder. Kaiser never thought that he would be gentle enough to put her to sleep, but it made him feel warm. He delicately slid his hands under her knees and picked her up, trying so hard not to awaken her. He carefully carried her to her bedroom and laid her down in her bed. Surprisingly, she didn't wake up. Kaiser found himself smiling before he remembered where he was. He slowly went back to bed, worried about the bad dreams that would come once again.

A floor above them was swarming with nervous energy. Brialle Crescent was unsure about what would happen. She could only hope that she would be okay, but she knew the statistics weren't in her favor. All of the things she'd taught herself wouldn't matter here, not now. It would all be in vain, because she was young and not really pretty, she was weak more than anything. She could only hope she could make it through the next day… She was able to fall asleep, but it was uneasy at best.

Outside, Anders Bonilla Cruz was worried about going into the Games alone. He didn't have much of a plan, or direction. He didn't know what to do at this point. He was hoping that he would end up with an ally, but he wasn't prepared at all to take on the Games alone. He wasn't ready for the next day, but he knew he never would be. He hoped that coming outside would calm his nerves. He looked down at the city and his mind filled with thoughts. While he thought, he hummed one of the old songs his grandfather sang. The familiar hymn wafted through the wind to Job's ears. _I once was lost, but now I'm found. Was blind but now I see._ Job and ABC both wished they could see.

On the top floor of the Complex, Bean Agavoli paced laps around the floor. He couldn't settle himself down. He had an ally that was trained, which was at least better than he could have had. Still, though, the odds were not very high for him. District Twelve hadn't had a Victor since Haymitch after all, and Bean certainly wasn't fit to replace him. If there was going to be a young Victor, it would more likely come from a richer, higher District, not from the pits of Twelve. He knew that all he could do was try, but that didn't seem like enough. Hopefully the fear would bring something out of him. Either that, or he would die trying.

He walked laps around, past the room where his District partner sat alone, crying quietly to herself. Melanie Cethin missed her mother so badly, and her sister even more badly. She missed her home, even though there wasn't much for her there and she always hated living there… But it was home. And there, she didn't have to worry about being murdered. Well, maybe she did because she was poor and lived in a desperate neighborhood. But not like this. She hated that she was still crying about it, but she couldn't help it. She was just a little girl, and she was scared, with nobody to comfort her. Bean heard her crying quietly to herself as he was pacing, quieter and quieter until she finally fell into an exhausted slumber.

The District Five floor was completely deserted.

It was truly a turn for the worst…

…

-Turtle D'Angelo, 13, District 5-

How dare they think that they could have gone without me. As soon as the lights shut off, Sadie came to get me. Sidonia said I best stay here and get rest before my big day in the Arena, but I couldn't have done that knowing that Ez wasn't there with me. Sidonia would have left me there if it weren't for Sadie.

Now, we're sitting in a van that is speeding fast down the wide, perfectly paved, open streets. The whole time we go, worry is fluttering over my heart. It was just a precaution, they'd told me. After all, I'd seen him get that way before. It was just that they didn't want to lose tributes before the Arena.

I swallow a lump in my throat. I tried so hard to shut him out. But now, I'm in this packed car, Sidonia definitely annoyed at Sadie, and Alpha trying to cool them both down with terrible jokes. Why am I so close to tears!? I didn't want it to happen like this. None of this was supposed to happen like this.

As soon as the car stops, Sidonia goes out. I practically push Alpha out of the car and hurry to catch up with the escort, who is practically running herself, looking nothing but upset. I wish that I didn't feel like this. I know I'm just going to walk into that room and he's going to be sitting there with that goofy smile waiting for us. He only acted sad around me anymore, because we came to the agreement that we weren't going to be together.

They take us to the room, and Ez is sitting up, just as I'd thought, smiling when he sees Sidonia come in.

Relief floods my entire body. I wish I didn't feel like this, but at least he was okay. That's all that matters to me.

"Ez!" I say, hurrying over.

"Thank the stars you're alright," Sidonia says, hurrying to his side. Sadie and Alpha hang back, not really sure what to say or do but both looking relieved.

"I was dead for a couple of seconds there," he said with a small laugh. "But they got this big ol' heart back to speed again."

He didn't look well. He was pale and his eyes had bags under them. He looked years and years older to me that moment. How is he going to go into the Arena like that?

"Well, they should have you healed up in just a few hours," Sidonia says. "I'm going to go talk to the doctors and figure out the plan of action. You just rest up, okay? You're going to be alright." Sidonia smiles and hurries out of the room, her face changing to worry and concern that make me sad as soon as she crosses the threshold of the door.

"I think this is important for us to know," Sadie says quietly.

"What? Sidonia's good, she'll-"

Sadie grabs his arm and drags him out of the room with a big harrumph. Leaving me alone with him.

I hurry over, knowing that this is my chance. So maybe we have to go into the Arena tomorrow, but screw it! Who cares? If I'm going to die tomorrow than at least I spent my last night with the one person that I can be positive cares about me. And if I am so tired I teeter off my pedestal, then at least I can do it knowing that I was able to spend just a few more hours with the one person, the _one damn person_ that never lied to me, that had nothing for me but love in his heart. The one person that never lied or tried to use me as leverage. He was worth this night.

"How are you feeling…?"

Ez gave me a weak smile. "Better now that you're here Turtle," he said quietly.

"I…" I don't know what to say. There's so much to say, but I feel like all of it is silly and none of it matters anymore.

"Hey, listen," he said quietly. "I wanted you to know that I don't have any hard feelings towards you."

"I know," I say quietly.

"I made a lot of friends while I was training. And after our little talk… Well, I put in a good word for you. So hopefully, even though I'm going to die tomorrow… My words will provide you protection even when I'm gone. That's all I want. To make the world safe for you. And if that's how I could do it, then I'm glad to have done it. Honest. I'm glad I could be reaped so I could protect you. I don't have much else to offer."

I don't even know how to respond to that. What an idiot. Using his final days to try some farfetched plan to protect _me_ … Nobody has ever loved me so much before. Tears roll out of my eyes and hit his bedside.

"Thanks," I say quietly. I swallow some of the mucusy spit in my throat. "Ez, I just-" suddenly, he starts gasping loudly. The heart monitor beside his bed started to beep louder and faster. Before any doctors come in, the monitor flatlines.

"Ez!" I jump up, trying to think of something to do. Capitolite doctors rush in the room, sounding frantic. The shove me away from the bed, where Sidonia catches my fall and keeps her hands on my shoulders. The Capitolites rub together some electric pads that they shock him with, injecting him with fluids, but Ez's body remains still, not moving. My heart pounds in my chest, and I'm having trouble breathing. It happened before and they saved him… Surely they could do it now, they were the Capitol!

The doctors looked wordlessly at Sidonia, and I knew what they were saying. He was gone for real this time. They couldn't save him. His heart gave out.

Sidonia sniffled behind me, and one of her tears dripped onto my shoulder. "I should be going to the Headquarters," she said quietly. "I'll send for a cab to pick you three up."

Sidonia gave one last glance at the body before hurrying out of the room.

"Come on Turtle," Sadie said quietly, giving me a nudge. I can't make myself move. It happened so fast. Just like that…

Alpha walks out the door, frowning.

"Do you want a minute?" she asked quietly. I never thought she could be that gentle. I give my mentor a nod, and she wordlessly slips out of the room.

I can't make myself go any closer to the corpse. It was once Ez, but now it isn't anymore. He's gone. I slowly lower myself into one of the soft, cushiony chairs against the wall. How did this happen!? There was so much I didn't get to say to him! I… I didn't even get to tell him… So much. There was so much. So much left unsaid, but he was gone.

Slowly, the tears start to form in my eyes as it starts to sink in. It's nothing but a body over there. A body that was going cold with each second that passed. I try to clutch onto something, something that would help me process what's going on, but all I can think about is pushing him away. I knew he didn't have much time and I still pushed away the only person that I can know without a doubt cares about me. Cared. About me.

I let out a sob, hoping that the tears will help me process what happened. I have loved and lost a lot before. People that have chosen to leave me because I'm weird and they don't like me anymore. But this was the one person that was willing to stay with me through the worst of times, for no other reason than friendship. Love, if you would call it that. I would. The thought sends a stab through my chest. The one person that refused to leave my side, and I left _his_. And the stupid idiot had used his last days on earth protecting _me_. And before I could realize what I'd done, in my stupid rash manner, he's gone. I didn't even get to tell him how much he meant to me. The last thing that he heard me say was that I had no friends, none at all. _I was just trying to appeal to sponsors_ … I pinch the back of my hand at the thought. _Stupid Turtle, making excuses. You were actively pushing him away, and he loved you! And now he's gone. And he'll never get to know what you really thought because you were too preoccupied with yourself to care._

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to stop the thoughts, but they just aren't going to stop. I wronged him, I was a stupid idiot! The last thing he heard me say was that I was alone, when all he wanted was to be by my side and keep me safe.

"How dare you spend your last hours of life protecting me!" I shout across the room at him, standing up again. My vision is blurred with tears, it almost looks like he's listening to me. "How dare you waste your precious time on someone that left you behind!" Another sob escapes me. "How could you do that to yourself!?" I reach up to wipe my eyes, and all I see is a lifeless body in front of me. "You stupid idiot!" I shout at him. "You should have done what you wanted to do! You shouldn't have wasted it on someone that let you go!" Three more sobs come out right in a row. I can't help but be angry at him for this. His heart was just far, far too big. "How do you feel now!? How do you feel knowing that you tried to protect me and I had to watch you die to tell you how much you mean to me?!" My knees wobble again, and I sink down to the ground.

"How do you feel now that you're _dead_?" I bury my face in my hands, feeling exhausted, but not able to stop crying. But of course I don't get a response. I don't know why I thought I would get one. I don't know why I was hoping to hear his gentle voice saying something stupid like, "It didn't take me dying." He was gone, why do I keep expecting him to answer me!?

I hear the door open again and dart back around, feeling threatened. People dressed in white come in to handle the… Body. Sadie gestures for me to come with her.

"Let's go Turtle."

I turn around, knowing that there's nothing I can do. The tears keep pooing up as they take his body and stuff it in a bag.

"I love you so much Ezreal," I say quietly. "I hope you can rest… easy." I turn away from the horrific sight and hurry to catch up with Sadie.

We pull back up to the Justice Building and I remember what's coming.

Somehow, I'm going to have to wake up tomorrow and fight for myself.

Nobody can save me or protect me anymore.

I'm going into the Hunger Games.

~.~.

 _ **A/N: BB next chapter, yay! My face is literally covered in tears now so I'm going to wash my face before bed. Hope you all enjoyed, and were caught completely unprepared.**_

 _ **CQ: Do you think Turtle is going to be able to get herself together before the Games the next morning? How do you think they're going to handle Ez's death?**_

 _ **I'll post eulogies with the BB to have them all in one place. Just know that this was very very hard to write.**_

 _ **See you soon ish for the Bloodbath!**_


	15. Bloodbath

**The Games**

 _The first day_

The Gamemaking Complex was bustling that morning. They only had until noon, when the tributes would appear in the Arena, but there was so much work to do. Elizabella Pavlov was stressed to her breaking point. She honestly had no idea how they were going to get this ready in the limited amount of time that they had.

She had thankfully been awake to receive the call from President Snow instructing her to come to visit him immediately because she was on the toilet, peeing for the fourth time that night. She was now running off of four hours of sleep, even less because of the baby's inability to settle down. It had been a hugely long night of programming, and Elizabella was glad that she was a mechanical engineer, and able to jump in and program a robot that would fill the place of the District Five boy. Deck, the intern, was glad to come in and help with the process. He really wanted to be a Head Gamemaker someday, like both of his parents.

Bella just wanted to cry and then sleep forever. She was exhausted, and hoping that the sculptor that was supposed to shape the robot in the District Five boy's likeness, so that the crowd couldn't tell that anything had happened.

Elizabella felt sad for the boy. He had such a short life, and though it would have been this short whether or not he was reaped, he couldn't die surrounded by friends and family. She consoled herself with the thought that at least he was able to have some fun before he died, and use his friendly nature to try and protect his District partner. President Snow had no mercy, though. He was glad this happened. He was satisfied to see this fate befall a child who refused to play the Games. Elizabella knew that he was right, those who openly defied them had to be punished. But the truth was he wasn't trying to incite a rebellion, he was just a fourteen-year-old She could see both sides, but for the sake of her job and her home the Capitol, she knew that this was a victory.

Elizabella swallowed hard when she got the news that the tributes had made it to their styling rooms. The robot of Ezreal was loaded in, and the Head Gamemaker knew that the only thing she could do now was oversee her team and fill in wherever she had to. The timer notifying the stylists that their tributes should be dressed began, and Elizabella made her way to the bathroom. She knew that she would have to watch the Bloodbath and couldn't afford to piss her pants during the action (and if she wasn't prepared, she definitely would).

After she was ready, she took a seat. It was hard for the pregnant woman to get comfortable, as she shifted around her chair. Before long, her baby was moving around, and any semblance of comfort for her was gone. Bella sighed, feeling so tired, but so ready for this to start. Her and her team had worked so hard on this and it was very fulfilling to see it all come together. But boy was she tired. And she wouldn't sleep until the Games were over, basically, so she had that to look forward to.

Suddenly, the tributes were being raised up in their tubes, and it was the time for the countdown to begin. The Arena was swarming with nervous energy as the tributes realized where they were. They were in a small shop that only had two doors out. It was making the tributes feel confined and nervous.

The countdown started with the sound of a large whistle. As soon as the sound of the whistle was released into the air, the robot that looked like Ezreal did its job, stepping off of the platform and exploding. Job, standing beside him, gasped loudly. The District Three tribute stared in shock at the puddle of blood on the ground. She immediately began to cry at the sight. On the other side of him stood Sav, who had a hand over his mouth. Just as was programmed, the robot exploded, leaving blood spatters like an actual tribute had done it. Their problem child was now handled, after a sleepless night, and the Games could go on as planned.

The cameras panned through the various cars of the luxury train the tributes were on that would take them around. It was old-timey compared to the modern Capitol trains: the tributes felt the slight bumps of the train passing over the tracks, and heard the classic sound of chugging as the train went forward. The clock counted down and the camera showed each of their nervous-looking faces.

The gong rang out and the tributes burst into action. It happened so fast that only an omniscient narrator with a witty fourth wall break could cover everything that happened as it happened.

Healy Hudson bursts out of the gate. She would have certainly gotten the beautiful sword placed right in the mouth of the horn if she wasn't placed next to Nebuchadnezzar Spiros from District Two, who grabbed her by the back of the shirt and immediately started a conflict. The girl from Six was a good (albeit dirty) fighter. While they sparred, District Eleven's Anders Bonilla Cruz was able to sneak past them and grab a small backpack. He ran away just as the other Careers arrived to the Cornucopia. On his way out, he collided with Savile Kigour of District Eight, who was running away without anything. The two of them stared at each other with wide eyes. ABC was up first and helped the boy up. Sav looked afraid, but ABC just said, "I don't want to hurt you. Come with me." The Eight boy trusted him, and they ran away into the next car together.

The only Career secured with a weapon of choice when District Ten's Kaiser Picasso made it to the horn was Lazuli Romano of District One, who was staying in the horn to defend it. On the way, Lorelei Nyima of District Two made a move to fight him, but the hulking ex-criminal shoved the boy away with all his might and ran into the horn, where he picked up a backpack and a bag of apples and ran back out. On his way, Zuli, who was defending the horn, slashed at his back with a sword. The boy cringed, but couldn't stop, and she didn't chase him. He hurried to his District partner, Inari Fujioka, who looked pained and guilty to see him hurt even though he'd told her to stay put, and they made their escape together.

While they made their getaway, Neapolitan had grabbed his sword from the Cornucopia and used it to slay Klaus Aerglo of District Six. The boy made the decision to try and reach a belt of knives at the mouth of the horn, but it hadn't paid off.

Melanie Cethin of District Twelve was inching away from the action, waiting for her ally. Brialle Crescent from District Eleven was running around, panicking frantically and crying. The explosion was a few people away from her but it seemed to have put her in a frenzy. Melanie desperately tried to get her to come back over, but instead watched Brialle be struck down by Garrett's quarterstaff. It was difficult to tell which died first, Klaus or Brialle. Before Melanie could react and run, she was struck with one of Lori's throwing knives and collapsed.

While each Career was focused on a kill, Heiko Spate of District Three ran into the Cornucopia. He faced District One's Lazuli Romano briefly, but was able to steal a backpack and a net that was laying by it while she was retrieving her weapon of choice and remained in the horn for defense. As he was running away, he glanced briefly at his District partner, who was frozen on her pedestal. When their eyes locked, Job snapped into action, turning away from the action and running as fast as she could.

As soon as the District Three tributes were out of sight, each in a different direction, Nebuchadnezzar won his fight against Healy, who was passed out but not dead. Neapolitan took a pause to throw his ally a belt of knives, which he used to end Healy's misery.

At the same time the Three tributes were running away, Ott Travers of District Four was running to the horn with his newfound ally, Zuzanna Heeler of District Nine. Their other allies, Bean and Blair, chose to stay behind and wait. Both of the runners grabbed a backpack before Garrett appeared behind them. The boy from Four lowered the sharp end of his staff on Zu's head, but she was too fast to hit and he only managed to hit her shoulder. Injured but not one to give up, Zuzanna kept going. Garrett didn't go after Ott, but his ally did. Lori threw a knife from across the way, running to catch up. The knife only hit his calf, but it slowed him down.

Bean knew that his allies needed him, and he wasn't going to watch the two of them be struck down when they were so close. Bean hurried to Ott's side to help him run faster, and together the three of them returned to Blair, who was waiting nervously. Suddenly, Bean was struck down by an unexpected blow.

While the alliance was being attacked by Careers, Walden Whitmore of District Seven and his ally Serena Merlo of District Eight were at the horn. Serena was in front, Walden in the back to keep watch, and she had grabbed the backpack with sleeping bag attached and hatchet for him. She paid a price for the supplies, though, in the form of an injury from being hit in the armpit by a knife. When Walden got the weapon, he went ahead, towards the small alliance, and took out the youngest of them with a quick blow to the head. He hustled forward and Serena, terrified having witnessed Walden kill an innocent kid, had to run as fast as she could to just barely keep up with him, away from the action.

The three allies were terrified at the loss of their friend, and it was Zu who made the others snap back into reality. They didn't have time to grieve like this. They had to run like their lives were in danger. They were.

Twyla had been shoved aside by her District partner, but was quickly back up and heading into the action. She wasn't so lucky, getting in soon after each Career had recovered from their first kill. Nebuchadnezzar threw a knife at her, which was only enough to nick her lower back before the girl from Seven had gotten away with a small backpack.

The last tribute to take on the horn was already inside, getting supplies obsessively. Abigail Macbeth of District Five was beside herself, in the horn and trying to get as much as she could to even have a fledgling of a chance to survive. She paid for her reckless action by a sizeable stab to the stomach before she quickly ran away from the action with a backpack. She ran slow, but nobody else went after her, allowing her to get out to the next car. It was peculiar that they would let her go, but the girl was already going to be dead soon anyways. It really was unprecedented for them to let someone go, but Turtle had at least some form of protection over her.

Elizabella let out a loud sigh when the main action was over.

"Hold the cannons," she said. "Let's see if Abby here is going to make it."

The girl stumbled into the next car, and the car after. Her breathing was labored. She slid herself behind a decorative plant and took a deep breath, trying to hold it together. She sputtered and gasped, her teeth clenched in pain as she tried to get ahold of herself. She cried quietly to herself and grabbed her stomach. Her body tried to throw up at the sight, but it was basically impossible for her to push anything up. In her eyes was pure fear. Through her tears she tried to force out words, but all that came were labored, tense sobs. She was shaking, and tried to wipe the tears out of her eyes. She was just trying to be strong.

Her lips formed an "f," but that was all she could get out. She was in such terrible pain she couldn't even speak.

Turtle D'Angelo died there, on the ground, without being able to tell Python that she forgave him.

She hadn't even gotten the chance to forgive herself.

As soon as her tracker turned red, Elizabella said in a monotone voice, "Shoot them off."

The tributes all perked up when they started, and counted them on their fingers until they ended up holding up seven for those that died that day.

"Bloodbath successful," Elizabella said, cracking her knuckles. A bit small, but not too bad compared to what could have been. Elizabella was feeling pretty content as she looked at each of the screens that showed where the tributes ended up.

"Let's see what these tributes are gonna do."

~.~.

 _ **A/N: Here's a really short little BB. I could have made it longer but I am not in the mood to fluff up the chapters with things that don't really matter. Look out for an Arena map eventually that will show the layout of the train and where each tribute is. I'm excited to finally be in the Arena with this story, it was certainly a great ride.**_

 _ **Also, check my profile for the Has/Needs list when it comes up! The link for sponsor points is also on my profile and I am going to do something different from my previous story and make a google form that you can use to spend sponsor points! I'm going to get that all figured out before I post this chapter so look forward to that when it's actually posted!**_

 _ **CQ: Did any of the BB deaths surprise you?**_

 _ **And now it's time for some eulogies, unfortunately.**_

 _ **24**_ _ **th**_ _ **Place: Ezreal Valois, District 5- Killed by Heart Failure**_

 _ **Everyone thought I wouldn't, which was why I just had to. I always wondered what would happen if a tribute died of a disease before the Games like that so I decided to take advantage of the chance and explore it myself! This boy was such a beautiful ray of sunshine, and the poetic irony of his big heart physically and literally causing his death was too irresistible to me. It was so much fun to explore his relationship with Turtle and his last few weeks before he died. He was rebellious in his own right, even if he didn't even know what he was doing, and that was why it was a victory that this happened to a good person. He will continue to live on and protect those that he loves and he will be happy with Turtle together. Thanks so much for this great boy David!**_

 _ **23**_ _ **rd**_ _ **Place: Klaus Aerglo, District Six- Killed by Neapolitan Hightower, District One**_

 _ **This was a really hard decision for me because Klaus had so much potential. He was fun and had attitude, and I really wanted to fit him in somewhere so we could see more of him. Sadly, I just couldn't fit him anywhere this time. It sadly just couldn't work out, and the weapons that they placed in the front at the Bloodbath were just too tempting. He was fun to write interacting with other characters and he will be missed. But thank you so much Anna for this really fun character!**_

 _ **22**_ _ **nd**_ _ **Place: Brialle Crescent, District Eleven- Killed by Garrett Wylde, District Four**_

 _ **I feel bad because I know that she wasn't showcased as much as she could have been. She was a very interesting character and just detailed enough that I could show her quirky qualities in certain situations, but she was just too intimidated by the idea of going into the Games and it came back to bite her. Thank you for this character Ella!**_

 _ **21**_ _ **st**_ _ **Place: Melanie Cethin, District Twelve- Killed by Lori Nyima, District Two**_

 _ **Melanie was a simple character, but she was so sweet. She was very easy to portray and I really liked writing with her. Unfortunately, her dependence on her ally for direction and her uneasiness about tackling the Games alone was ultimately her downfall. Choosing bloodbaths was really hard, but she was just too sweet for the Games. I hope that you enjoyed seeing her in the story and to see you submitting to future stories, watercolorgalaxies!**_

 _ **20**_ _ **th**_ _ **Place: Healy Hudson, District Six- Killed by Nebuchadnezzar Spiros, District Two**_

 _ **This was another very tough decision, as I feel like I didn't represent her as well as I could have because she didn't have a District partner that was a POV character. However, I am glad that I got to write with her for this limited time! Sadly her rash ways just caught up to her. But I'm so happy to have heard from you Kate and thank you so much for her!**_

 _ **19**_ _ **th**_ _ **Place: Bean Agavoli, District Twelve- Killed by Walden Whitmore, District Seven**_

 _ **This was one death that wrecked me. Bean was such a good boy and he was so much fun, and I really was looking forward to exploring his relationship with Ott and friendship. But sadly, I had to get down to the wire and pick deaths, and this was my decision. Bean was loyal to a fault and was ready to help his ally, even if it meant death, which for him, sadly, it did. He was just too good to be in the Games and it showed in the moment that it counted the most. I hope that you enjoyed seeing him jul312, thanks so much for him!**_

 _ **18**_ _ **th**_ _ **Place: Turtle D'Angelo, District Five- Killed by Lazuli Romano, District One**_

 _ **Ah, my own daughter. She was actually supposed to survive for just one more day, but I thought that now was the right time for her. Turtle was such a fun character to explore and her relationship with Ez absolutely wrecked me. I knew that without him, and knowing that he was the only thing that she really had, then losing him that quickly. She was exhausted and still grieving, and it caused her to act rashly that caused her death. She was such a fun little quirky character to write, and I loved every POV I had with her. Now was just her time. I'm so sorry Turtle. You can be who you are with Ezreal in heaven now baby girl.**_

 _ **Hope you enjoyed the BB and see you sometime soon for the first day!**_


	16. Breaking Down

_**A/N: This chapter has triggering material. PM me for more info if you are concerned!**_

 _The first night_

-Serena Merlo, 16, District 8-

There's no better way to describe how I feel except for… Dirty. Well, dirty and achey too. People think that the armpit is a funny place to be injured, but it makes every movement of my arm feel like hell. It would be silly of me to think that I could defend myself in this state. My heart is pounding as I sit down on the bed of the compartment we've found. Walden casually puts our backpack down next to him and sits down on a chair.

I'm still trying to catch my breath, exhausted as I reach up to clutch my chest. Thank goodness the arm that was injured is my non-dominant hand. I don't know what I could have done if it was my right arm. I can't believe I've witnessed so much in such a small time. Yes, they call it a bloodbath, but that term doesn't prepare you for the full experience. It's like a sensory overload, but far, far worse because it's an overload of murder.

The fear of dying matched with the misery of being injured and the physical effort of the running is just too much for me. I have to take a moment to calm down, trying to rid my eyes of the visions of blood that were seemingly branded into them. The blood of young people, younger than me even.

The adrenaline wears off slowly as my body realizes that we're not in danger anymore. The cloud that was over my brain starts to blow away, but with it goes the pain-blocker that was keeping my arm in place. I take a few deep breaths, trying to get myself together. My head is still spinning when my ally speaks up again.

"Are you finished?"

Hearing the familiar voice makes me swallow the bile and mucus in my throat and look up. He was leaning back and looked annoyed.

"I think so," I say quietly. "Sorry. That was insane."

"If you think _that's_ insane, you're in for a rude awakening. You know that, don't you?"

I know that he's right. He's trying to get me to toughen up, which I probably need at this point in time. He's right. The truth is that it was a small bloodbath, only a total of seven cannons. The Careers, I can imagine, aren't very happy that it was so small, and they'll soon be scouring every car for blood. If I can't even watch one tribute die, how am I supposed to win the Games?

My head starts to spin again. I reach up to hold it in my hands, which sends pain shooting up my arm. Despite myself, I let out a cry, then quickly cover my mouth, which causes more burning pain.

"Serena," he says, groaning and putting his feet up on a stool.

"I'm sorry," I say, trying to hold back tears so that my ally doesn't think I'm weak. "It hurts."

Walden groaned. That's not the answer that he was looking for. I grit my teeth, trying to keep myself from crying out again. I have to be tough or else he'll leave me… And I really can't afford to be alone, I'm too weak to be left like this. I couldn't possibly survive without him. If it takes travelling with him to stay alive, I'm completely willing to do it.

"Honey, you're already crying over that little scratch?" He looks at me with eyes that don't hide his disappointment. "Newsflash: You're going to be facing injuries that are much, much worse if you don't grow a pair."

The thought of being injured more scares me. _Hold it together Serena… Just hold it together_. He's right. He's just being honest with me about this, and I best be taking his advice. Who else do I have to listen to, right? He needs me just as much as I need him. That's why he's my ally. I need to be the person that he needs.

"I'm sorry." I put my left arm down, and use my right to wipe my eyes. Or as best as I can with only one hand.

"It's in your DNA," Walden said simply. The comment: and the casualty with which it was made: make me look up in confusion. _What's that supposed to mean?!_ I want to ask him, but I don't want to make anymore conflict. It makes me really uncomfortable and I can't stand the thought of this escalating. He's my ally and we need each other. I decide to just drop it.

But the thought that I was just formed, made to be inferior to the world and everyone in it sticks. It's not the first time I've thought that in my life, and I'm sure it won't be the last. There's just something about the person I am that is inferior. There's something about who I am that was made to not be as good as other people. To not be strong, or brave, or funny, or smart. I guess I was just programmed to be average in every way possible. No amazing weapons skills, no great survival knowledge, just in the middle. Always overlooked, but never underestimated. That's just always been me.

"What did we get?" I ask, blinking the last of the tears out of my eyes. Somehow, the thoughts in my head were comforting. Probably because they were familiar. When my biggest problem is just how useless I am, it was easy to undermine the bigger problems at hand, like being in the Games. I embrace the thoughts like an old friend. They're always there for me to go back to.

"Haven't looked yet," Walden said. But he didn't move. I wonder if I should look for him. Or if I should tell him to start looking through so that we know that we have. Strategically, it would be the best move, while we were alone. Hopefully there's a weapon for me in there too… Walden has made it pretty clear who was going to be carrying the hatchet. He's right, he could use it better than me anyways, so it makes more sense for him to have it.

I want to know what's in the bag, desperately hoping there's some form of relief: or at the very least, protection: for my arm. I'm a little bit worried about it. _Toughen up Serena,_ that voice says inside my head. _Walden's right, it's just a scratch and you shouldn't be worried about it. If only you didn't have the pain tolerance of a fucking squirrel! Actually, squirrels probably have better pain tolerance._

I want so badly to ask him. But I can't make my lips form the words. The question is on the tip of my tongue, desperately waiting to be asked, but I'm far too afraid to ask. I just don't want to make him mad… And when I bother him all the time, he gets annoyed. I guess I don't blame him. I would be annoyed with myself too, always asking questions and trying to decide how things should go.

I shut my mouth and don't ask the question. I just don't want to bother him… And the thought of bothering him and making him angry with me isn't exactly a pleasant one. I guess I should just stay seated here and be quiet. Hopefully he can decompress and I can ask him later. Yeah, that will be good! I look over at the pillow and my arms tense up at the thought of reaching over for it. _It's not a big deal,_ I think to myself. _This is just a small injury. The more you use the arm, the easier it'll get. Then you can be tough and you won't have to bother Walden anymore with your incessant whining about something that isn't even a big deal._ I steel myself. I know that I shouldn't have to, but my body does it involuntarily. I reach over and grab the pillow. My arm feels like it's tearing off, red hot pain shooting up my muscles all the way to my fingertips as they wrap around the soft pillow and I pull it back to my spot, against the wall. The pain still radiates heat through my arm as I take a deep breath, heart pounding. I feel warmth on my side, and when I look I see blood slowly crawling up my shirt. I start to panic, my heart feeling like it has to work twice as hard to make up for blood it is losing. The blood continues to crawl around the fabric, and I start to worry.

"It's bleeding again…" I say quietly, sure that Walden will be able to help me.

"Well yeah, because you stretched it all the way over there to grab a stupid pillow," Walden said, like it was obvious. Perhaps it was obvious, to him and everyone else watching that now thinks I'm a ridiculous idiot.

"How do I make it stop!?" I ask, tears prickling at my eyes.

"Do you have to cry over everything?" he asks, obviously annoyed now.

"I'm s-sorry," I say, trying to get ahold of myself. Walden gets up and comes over, where he lifts my arm a little and applies pressure to the wound. The pressure hurts, and makes me cry out, but I try to hold it in so that he won't think less of me. I can't afford for him to think less of me right now, we've just gotten started. If I can't handle these small things, how will I ever be useful to him when it gets worse?

Walden presses on the wound for a while.

"Did it stop?" I ask nervously, sniffling a little bit.

"Can't tell, your shirt is too bloody. Take it off."

I can't help but squeak in surprise. T-take my shirt off? But… I don't want to do that…

"Do I have to?" I finally ask him. I don't want him to see what's under there. Not only would he be disappointed because I'm not beautiful underneath, the whole nation would see my disgusting frog body. If only I could lose a few pounds of weight… Just a couple to make me flatter…

"It's the only way," he says. He has a look in his eyes that I don't trust.

 _Don't trust?! Serena, he's your ally. You can't be saying that you don't trust your ally. How would he feel if you told him that you don't trust him!?_

"Um… I think I can just check. If you want to just head over there. You've done enough… Thanks."

"Can you see there? Don't you trust my word?" Walden asked, looking upset and angry.

"I…" I don't know what to say. We're allies. I have to trust him, after all. He's my ally, and we're going to be responsible for each other's lives. I swallow hard. I don't feel comfortable, but hopefully this will help. Hopefully exposing myself and being vulnerable in this way will make me feel trusting of him. After all, sometimes to get comfortable you first have to be uncomfortable.

I work my right arm out of the shirt, feeling nothing but scared and worried. I urge myself on.

"I need help," I say quietly. That's the last thing I want, but I don't want to make him mad at me.

"Just leave it, I'll just roll it up on this side," he says, his voice not sounding… nice. _That's just how he is,_ I think desperately. It's okay, that's just how he is. Walden held up the sides of my shirt to look, moving my arm so he could get a view of the injury.

"Looks fine," he says, letting the shirt go. I wait anxiously for the feeling of his hands to go away, not liking the feeling of being touched on the sides like that, but under the shirt his hands brush over my breasts, giving a firm squeeze that makes me yelp and try to squirm away from him. _Why would he do that?!_

Before it happened, his hands were out from my shirt. My lips try to form words, eyes filling with tears.

"You're ticklish," he comments cooly. The look in his eyes is telling me not to say anything. Or else I would fall into the same fate as Bean. The memory of Walden striking the boy down makes me jump away from him, feeling terrified. What just _happened_?! He turns away from me.

"Guess I am…" I say quietly. It must have just been an accident or something… He's my ally. I have to trust him. I have to trust that he has no bad intentions. I have to trust that he'll protect me, like I would protect him.

Walden glanced through the bag finally. I suddenly feel cold all over my body, grabbing a blanket and wrapping it tightly around my right side. He murmured to himself as he went through the bag.

Finally, I see what I've been looking for and almost cry out in relief. "First aid! What's in it?"

Walden looked up. "It's not bleeding anymore, remember?"

At the defeat my eyes just fill with tears. I'm so close to relief.

"It would be nice if there was something in there. Can't you just check?"

Walden rolled his eyes. "Weaklings," he said, opening the first aid kit. "Aha, I think I have what you're looking for."

I light up. "Oh, I'm so glad!"

"I'll help you apply it tomorrow," he says, and chills run up my skin. I am about to speak up but stop myself. I don't want to shatter the trust between us. I can't afford to lose him, I need him to live. I can't do any of this without him… And he has the weapon. I bite my lip and keep my mouth shut. I can't ruin this, not like I've ruined so much before.

"What else is in there?" I ask, trying to keep my voice sounding strong. Thankfully, changing the subject makes me feel better and I can relax. For a moment.

"Score, food and water."

I perk up. "Both?!" That's a relief. I would hate to have to hunt for them on a train like this.

"And the sleeping bag on top."

So no weapon for me… No problem… Walden will do the protecting. I try not to cringe thinking about him killing Bean. It was so bloody…

"Great," I say.

Walden gives me a look. "Good job, Serena."

The words make my heart soar. I am good for something! I got the bag with great supplies in it for us to share! I did make myself useful. I feel proud and when he smiles at me, I feel amazing. I do have a purpose. I am a good ally to have sometimes.

"Oh, I think the anthem is starting."

I swallow nervously, not ready to watch the replay of those that died.

But now I have a new motivation to be tough, to be strong. To be an ally worth having. I can do it, if I just focus on getting better all the time.

Maybe we have a shot at being formidable after all.

~.~.

-Ott Travers, 15, District 4-

I sit across from the District Nine tributes as the sun sets out our window, the train slowly click clacking over the tracks. None of us talk. No one has anything to say. We had already established that we had water, a blanket, extra socks, rope, bandages, and a small pillow. That's nice to have supplies, but was it worth it?

"It happened so fast," Blair said quietly, wringing their hands together nervously. "I didn't even realize it at first…"

"We were so close to getting away too," Zu says quietly, still cradling her right elbow, trying to take it easy on her shoulder. She'd declined the offer for bandages, knowing that we would have to be careful how we used them. I said yes to them, though. My calf is very likely to get infected if I don't protect it properly, after all. We tried to use as little of the roll as possible, but it was almost half I'm sure. At least.

"Can we not talk about this anymore?" I ask, trying not to sound too irritable with them. I put my head down on one of the tables. They're forgetting that _I_ was Bean's ally first. And while talking through what happened could possibly give them some peace of mind about what happened to him, it was only making me relive the moment over and over again. And that was something I really want to do. I'd rather not keep being reminded that Bean is gone and I couldn't save him.

I don't want to admit it, because the Arena is the worst place to feel this way, but… I'm just so devastated. There's absolutely no reason why he should be dead and I'm not. Honestly. There's no logical reason I should even be alive at all. Garrett was on our trail, and he probably could have taken out Zu if you want, but he didn't even try to get me.

If he hadn't hesitated, of course I wouldn't be alive right now. I'm not an idiot, I know that he could easily kill me. And as glad as I am to not be dead, I hope that was just a one time pass from him. I have to show my friends and family that I can win the Games on my own talents. That's the only way I'll be able to have any credibility in a District where all of the Victors: or almost all: were volunteers. Hopefully Garrett knows that I've learned my lesson. Hopefully, I don't have to run into him again. But who knows how big or small this train actually is?

"Sorry," Blair says quietly, reaching over to gently rub my back.

"We know he was a good person," Zu said. "I think everyone knew, don't you?"

Perhaps it was an attempt at making me feel better, but it just didn't feel like it. It feels like she's pressing a stake into my heart and pushing it in even further, until my heart is full of splinters. I try to hold back the tears that push at my eyes. I can't be crying on the very first day of the Games. It's not even truly begun yet.

But I didn't expect to lose my ally on only the first day either.

"He wasn't even in the action," I say quietly, to nobody in particular. I clutch the sleeves of my jacket with my fists. "He stayed behind." Blair rubs my back softly, trying to comfort me. For some reason, it only makes it harder to hold back the tears in my eyes. Perhaps because when I receive comfort, it means that something really horrible happened. It means that I can't be strong enough to hide my feelings. And once someone looks into my heart, I can't just shut them out again. My eyes glass over. "Dammit…" I try to hide the fact that I'm crying by hiding my face in my arms on the table. Hopefully no one will see… I can't let them see how I really feel. Nobody likes a weepy reaped tribute, after all.

"It was just… Unfair," Blair said quietly. "But I'm glad that we're together then."

I look up at the statement, immediately regretful when I can see how their face falls at seeing mine.

"You are?"

"Yeah, of course." They forced a misty smile at me, but as soon as it appeared the tears started pouring out of their eyes. "God. I'm so sorry this happened, Ott."

"It's not your fault Blair," Zu says. "If anything, it was mine. I was the one who was so sure we needed supplies."

I swallow a hard, painful lump in my throat. As much as I really was trying not to play the blame game, I think that deep down everyone knows whose fault this is.

"It was me!" I say, the words tied together by a sob. "We all know that it was my fault. I was the leader of the alliance, and I failed. I let him down."

"Ott…" Blair said.

"You know it's true," I say, sniffling miserably. "You know it's true. And she knows it's true, and _everyone_ knows that it's true."

"We don't think that," Blair said quietly, sniffling softly.

"Garrett should have just struck me down and taken my life and then they wouldn't have gone after him!" I put my head back in my hands.

"That story wouldn't even work if they did kill him, but it wasn't the Careers at all," Zu says. My heart sinks as I realize that she's right. "It was that boy from Seven and his ally."

I can't control the tears anymore, balling my hands into tight fists. This isn't what I wanted. "I was the one that wanted so desperately to go into the Cornucopia," I say quietly. "If I hadn't gone for supplies in the second row, we could have gotten away. None of this would have happened." I sob quietly. "I'm a piece of shit leader and everyone here knows it." I bite my lip to try and control the tears. I am nothing. I've never been rational, or responsible, and my mistake cost Bean his life. I will never be able to forgive myself for this. "My irresponsibility went too far," I say quietly. "This is all my fault." It seems that I've run out of tears to cry for him. I clench my fists angrily. I've lost my ally and I can't even cry for him! What kind of friend am I?! All his did was encourage me and I'm the reason that he's dead, even when I was so sure I could protect him.

I was wrong about that. I couldn't protect him. I couldn't fight back. It's probably just stupid of me to think that I even have a chance at winning the Games. How long until I have to watch another of my allies die!? _How long_!? The thought of losing Zu or Blair makes me slam my head on my hands, trying to get rid of the thought. Of these thoughts that do nothing but hurt me and make me feel bad.

Well, maybe I need to feel hurt, maybe I should feel bad. I lost my closest ally on the first day. And he lost something way more valuable: his own life. He would never come back to his family. He was too young for this. For any of this.

"Ott," Zu says, a sudden fire in her voice. "This isn't your fault."

"We all know-"

"Look at me!"

I ashamedly raised my head, my cheeks still tearstained as my eyes meet hers.

"This isn't your fault, okay? Literally nobody thinks that but you."

"That's easy for you to say, you didn't promise to protect him like I did, did you?" I fire right back. How dare she try to blame this on someone else! I failed as a leader. I failed to protect him.

"You can't control everything," Zu says. "There was no way you could have stopped that short of taking the blow yourself."

Tears roll down my cheeks. "Well maybe I should have. Why shouldn't I?!"

Zu's face contorts as she's trying to think of what to say, how to phrase it. "You are fifteen and from District Four. You have the best shot of all of us."

"That's no good reason," I say bitterly, talking completely out of the self-hatred that has enveloped my heart like a fire, eating it alive bit by bit. "You miss all the shots you don't take. You both have just as much a chance as I do and I robbed him of it!"

Zu looks at me, her mind racing a mile a minute as she tries to figure out how to counter me.

"It's just a fact okay? I failed him. And it's only a matter of time before I fail you guys too."

Blair, who had gone silent, suddenly spoke. "Have you ever thought that maybe Bean wouldn't want you to take the fall for him!?"

I look over at my ally, who is staring at me, their sweet face now hardened.

"Why would he want to die?" I ask bitterly, another tear escaping my eye. "He wasn't an idiot, you know? You know nothing about him."

"I do know," Blair says. "You weren't there with him in his final minutes, were you? I was."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, tears forcing themselves out of my eyes.

"You didn't see. Why do you think he was running to you? Do you think he really thought he could protect you from a multiple armed eighteen-year-olds barehanded? You said it, he's not an idiot."

The anger in my gut quickly melts away. "You're not saying…"

"Bean couldn't protect you, Ott. But he saw you guys injured, and he saw the threat. He didn't come blindly. Just think about that when you think of who you're blaming."

The table is quiet after that. My eyes once again pool up with glassy tears that blur my vision. This time, I can't stop it. They flow out freely. "Do you think he gave up his chance for me?" I ask my allies quietly.

"You can piece together the facts however you think," Zu said quietly. Blair's hand was back on my back, rubbing softly.

I cry quietly into my arms, my tears dripping onto the table. "Why would he do that for me?" I ask finally. It just didn't make any sense to me. I wouldn't consider my life worth any more than his. Why would he feel that way about me?

"I don't think that's something we can answer for him," Blair said softly. The gentleness in their voice makes the tears come faster.

"I think all that we can tell you about it is that Bean's chance is gone now, and you can't bring him back. And he did it so that you would have a second chance. Are you going to waste it?"

I blink the last tears out of my eyes, taking a deep breath. _Am I going to waste it?_ I ball my fists, new determination filling me as I sit up straight. "I'm not going to waste it," I tell her. I couldn't do that. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I threw it all away.

"Bean would want us to keep going with a vengeance, and you know it," Blair said quietly.

"You're right," I say quietly. "We can't let him down now. I may have let him down once before, but I can't do it again." Blair gives me a firm pat on the back as the anthem starts to play and the tributes' faces appear in the sky.

First to appear is the girl from Five, Abigail. After, her District partner, Ezreal Valois. Then, up came the photo of Healy Hudson from Six. Her District partner Klaus followed her. Then, the District Eleven girl, Brialle Crescent. Her ally, Melanin Cethin, comes up after her. I brace myself for the last one to appear.

Bean Agavoli. He's grinning ear-to-ear in his picture. He'd told me that he wanted to have as goofy a picture as possible, so that if something were to happen to him, at least the people that were missing him would have one last memory to laugh at.

For Bean's sake, I laugh at the photo. He wouldn't want me to feel bad like this. He didn't die so that I could spend the rest of my life crying over it after all.

"Thanks Bean," I say, as his picture fades away.

"We're going to make you proud."

~.~.

 _ **A/N: And we're back to angst land! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Hopefully by the time this is posted, the Arena map will be up, and you'll be able to know where everyone is at the end of the first day! And next chapter we go into Day Two! I don't have anything planned yet, so if you want to sponsor a certain tribute and help them out, check out the Google form link on my profile!**_

 _ **CQ: Do you think Bean meant to sacrifice himself or just went into the spur of the moment? This is a lame question, but there ya go lol.**_

 _ **Thanks so much for reading everyone!**_


	17. Necessity

_The second day_

-Kaiser Picasso, 18, District 10-

Inari snores quietly as I watch the sunrise outside my window, enveloping the great beyond in pinks and oranges. I know that she's slept longer than I did last night, but that's alright. I would far rather be defending us than have her do it.

She's sleeping on the top bunk. I told her it would be best if someone were to come in, because then she would be able to have the advantage of a high vantage point.

Or, one that I won't say out loud… It'll give me a better chance to protect her from a coming threat. If she's above all the action, whoever it is will certainly target me first, giving her the chance to either hide or run away to somewhere. Not sure how that would work with the Careers in this tiny room, but it would give her a better shot.

The bed squeaks quietly, and I hear Inari shifting around in bed. I frown. The sun just rose, it can't be later than 6:30. I was hoping that she would get a little more rest than that. I heard her shift and climb down the ladder of the bunk bed.

"Morning," she said with a yawn.

"You can go back to sleep," I tell her. "It's early."

Inari gives me a reassuring smile, and with the soft orangey beams of the sun shining on her through the window, I'm struck again by her beauty. _Damnit Kaiser._ Inari goes into the tiny bathroom compartment of our car to do her business. I stand outside the door. We planned a secret knock for if something seemed off to let the other person know to not come out and to barricade the door. Thankfully, we don't have to use it yet. Inari comes out, her hair redone and looking slightly more awake.

"You need to go?" she asked. It's such an odd thing. I've barely known Inari for a week and here we are sharing a bathroom and having to keep the other updated about our… restroom needs. I can no longer live in the flowery reality where Inari doesn't ever have to shit. But that's okay. I would far rather have a system where we could both be safe. At least we didn't have to poop on the floor.

"Yeah," I say. I don't particularly have to go, but it's probably better for me to go now when she's around to keep watch for me than later, when it could be inconvenient. Besides, we have no water, so I don't anticipate having to go really badly again for at least another day.

I go in the bathroom. There's very little running water, and the sink doesn't work (nor does the shower). Thankfully, the apples we got have kept me from getting too thirsty, but I know there has to be a source of water somewhere on this train that isn't toilet water. But hey, if I get desperate, at least it's there to keep us from dying of dehydration.

It feels kind of sick to leave the bathroom without at least rinsing my hands, but I figure that if we were in the wilderness, it would be the same situation. It just feels weirder because we actually have a toilet, I guess.

Then, I come back out, suddenly struck by the fatigue of staying up so late keeping watch.

"Did you sleep well?" I ask. It would be worth it if she said yes.

Inari gave a small smile. "As well as I could being… Here." She gave a small sigh.

"Right. Yeah." The mood sinks and we go into silence as we watch the sun finish rising together out the large window. Inari's eyes were slightly wider than usual as she watched the scene unfold.

"Wouldn't you want to just run away to those grassy fields?" she asked, propping up her elbow on the windowsill and resting her face in her hand. "Just let go of the world and live in the lush, tall grass with the sun and dance with the wind?"

I laugh a little bit. "I've often dreamt about being free," I tell her honestly. "But never quite _that_ free."

"It would be nice to escape," she says. "My family could never understand it. Why I wanted to do something bigger than just farm work. They all figured that it would all be for naught."

I glance over at her. "What did you do on your farm? Dairy? Slaughter?"

Inari gasped. "Oh, heavens no!" she said. "We train horses," she says.

I almost facepalm, but keep myself from doing so. "That's nice. Do you like it?"

"Yeah," she said. "Every horse has a different soul. So training each one is a little different. And I like making connections with them in the process too."

I smile a little bit, imagining her performing tricks with a horse. "That's cool."

"Have you ever ridden a horse?" she asks, glancing back at me. "They would love to run around in that pasture."

"No," I say. "Although I've done plenty of riding." I chuckle at the joke.

"Riding what?" she asks. "Donkeys? Cows?"

"No… Like… Y'know…" I whistle. That clears up nothing

"Oh, just drop it."

"Okay," she says still sounding confused.

"Did you train horses for chariot rides?" I ask her.

Inari smiles again at that. "Yeah, a few, when I was really young." She gave a cute little giggle. "I was always the person in the chariot back then. I _loved_ that."

I smile at the image. "That does sound like fun."

"What did you like to do as a child?" Inari asks, making me look up. As much as I know that it's dangerous to get close to her, I think it'll be good for my angle of a changed man if I keep this up.

"Well, I didn't have very many toys, nor did my family have any animals… But my Mom was usually around in the daytime, and she would always play with me. She was very imaginative, back then. She would dream up these big stories and send me on quests around the house and outside to collect things that we would use to end all evil." I put my head down on the surprisingly cold glass of the window. "God, I miss her."

I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder. "But you'll be able to see her again if you win."

"I hope so," I say quietly. I don't like this whole being vulnerable thing. Thankfully, an end is put to it when a compartment on the door slides open, making Inari and I both jump, but relax when we see the parachutes that float through it. The panel closes and the two silver cannisters land on the floor gently .

"Goodies!" Inari says happily.

"I guess that's one thing you could call them," I say, with a small laugh. Inari and I hurry over to open them. Looks like our mentors and escort are finally good for something.

My cannister is smaller. Ugh, of _course_ it is. I'm not nearly as sunshiney as Inari. Nice to see who my tam is actually rooting for. My face contorts in annoyance. Inari pulls out a bigger first aid kit. "Ooo!" she says. "What did you get?"

I open the cannister, annoyed at my team before quickly swallowing my words. "Oh…" I pull out the brass knuckles with sharp spikes pointing out of them. This is a far cry from the small knife I really have no idea how to use. "Woah."

Inari's eyes widen. "Holy guacamole!" she says. "Those are some serious knuckles."

"Did you read the note that came with yours?" she asks.

I reach for the small paper inside of the cannister.

 _You and I both know inari isn't going to be the one punching things. -Inspektor_

I give a small chuckle despite myself. He picked my name out of the stupid bowl, but at least he's actually trying to prove his worth now.

"Crew said… _Because you that boy isn't going to fix himself up_."

I roll my eyes at that. "I'm just being smart about how I use up our supplies."

"Well, now we have more of them, so I'm going to clean you up so that we don't have to worry about infection or anything. Turn around."

I sigh, turning around on the chair. I feel Inari's smooth, cold hands slowly roll up the back of my shirt.

 _Don't think of this sexually,_ I scold myself. I don't have much time to think of it in any way other than pure pain though, as she stubbornly rinses out the wounds on my back. I know that it'll make them ultimately better, but that doesn't change the fact that it's sheer agony. I let out a groan.

"Sorry, but you need to quiet down. Can't you, like, muffle yourself?" she asks, giving me a break from the alcohol disinfectant. Panting, I roll up my shirt and put it in my mouth. If only I didn't feel like my back was on _fire_ , this could be really hot. Inari pours on the disinfectant generously, and the fire runs all the way down my back to my waist. I haven't hurt this bad since I was whipped last, which was just long enough away that I forgot just how much it hurt. It was a little son of a bitch.

Soon, Inari is patting my back with cotton to make the pain cease.

"I would rinse it again with water, but we don't really have that…" she says.

"Don't wash it out with toilet water," I say, laughing a little bit.

"So I don't think it's really deep enough to bandage all the way around, not to mention it would use up all our bandages and you would look like a mummy. I'm just going to tape some gauze around the deepest part so that hopefully it'll heal better."

"You're the boss," I say.

She gently tears the bandage with our knife and puts them on. I feel better once it's over: mostly because she isn't disinfecting anymore. When she's done, she puts my shirt down. "I hope that works. You shouldn't have told me to stay back, I could have helped you."

"It was better how we did it," I tell her. "I would rather be hurt than you. I'm a big boy, I can take it. I've been worse off."

Inari's face contorted with worry as she gave me a look, but she didn't retort anymore.

"Thanks for your help," I say, giving her a smile. "Let's put that first aid in the backpack."

"Good idea!" she says. I keep my right knuckles on, putting the left in my pocket. Just in case.

"That reminds me!" she says earnestly. "I wanted to take a look up where I was sleeping. I think I found something in the night."

"Found something?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. She gives me a proud nod, climbing back up the ladder. I watch her up there, her hands climbing around the ceiling.

"Aha!" I look up, and she gives me a grin. "Check it out!" she gave a light tug on the ceiling where it looks like it's catching on something.

"Looks like there's a room up here!" she says.

"A room?" Even better, a _secret_ room. This could certainly come in handy. I go climb up on the bed with her, where she's already halfway in whatever place was up there.

"Not very big," she comments. "But big enough." She crawls the rest of her body up the hole.

"What is it?"

"Dark," she says. "Okay, I'm in. You can come up here too!"

I stick my head into the room. It's stuffy, hot, and dark. But it's hidden away.

"Can you get all the way in?" she asks. "I'll try to make room for you." In the faint light provided by the room below, I see her figure trying to shift. I climb in the rest of the way, spanning my feet in over the door and bringing up the door.

"This is a good place to hide," I say, "But we can't stay up here too long."

"I didn't know you were so flexible," she says, with a giggle.

"Oh," I say, even more heat rushing to my cheeks. "I did, um, yoga in prison."

"Did you?" she sounds interested more than anything. "Did you like it?"

I smile a little bit. "Yeah, I did." Whether that's because I liked the discipline and the flexibility or the instructor's giant tits is up for debate. "Now let's get out of here. I'm already feeling like I'm losing air."

"Me too," she says. "But it's nice to know how we can fit. Maybe we should run some drills of getting up here quickly so that we have it down to a system today."

I smile a little bit. She's a good little survivalist. Or perhaps she's just training me like a horse. Either way, I think it'll be to our benefit.

"Alright. But first, let's get our breath back," I say, opening the door and sliding out of the room. I help her get back on the bed, and together, we descend to the ground.

"We're gonna make it, Kaiser," she says, smiling at me.

Despite myself, I smile back.

"Yeah. We are."

~.~.

-Job Markov, 17, District 3-

Sleeping last night was an impossible feat. Thoughts and fears keep coming up. Doubt. Ugh, doubt. I thought I was over this whole doubt thing, but it turns out it's not something you can just outgrow and never face again. I wish it was though. Because boy does it hurt.

You can tell yourself you're going to die over and over again, like a broken record, but when you actually get in the heat of the moment, well… it's scarier than it looks. Perhaps if I didn't see it happen to someone else, I would have been more content to accept my fate. But watching Ez walk off the pedestal, after everything that he'd said and done and been through… my body just totally froze up.

He was a better kid than me. He didn't know God, or at least I don't think he did. But somehow he had fulfilled his purpose far better for me. He knew he was going to die, and accepted it. He was at peace with it.

If anything, I should be the one that's at peace with dying. I know that I have a home waiting for me after this life, and losing this life doesn't matter. What matters is my eternal life. It was already won for me. I shouldn't have any fear of the Games. No fear of death. Because I already have a heavenly home. And it's far better than this shit earth anyways. I should be excited to finally meet Jesus, right?

Maybe that's all good, but the thought of hurting: bleeding, suffocating, dying slowly, painfully… That part was the part that wasn't so nice. I'm far too young to die a natural or painless death. I haven't lived a full life. I haven't even figured out what God's purpose for me is in this life. How am I supposed to accept the fact that my time on earth is over when I didn't even make a difference? And the only time my death would have actually meant something was if it gave a message to the world, a message about who we are as Christians and the peace that we stand for… And I missed that train.

I give a small, miserable laugh.

Now I'm just going to die the sad, unremarkable, but most painful and longest kind of death there is: dehydration.

You would think that being in a kitchen of all places would mean that I had food, but of course it couldn't be that easy. I tried and tried to get into those drawers and cabinets, but they were seemingly sealed or jammed shut. The few that I could get unstuck are empty. There's a faucet, but it's jammed shut with a cork. And I've really tried to get that cork out.

Not only am I not dead like I've been convincing myself I would be, but also I have no allies, because I pushed both of them away, and no supplies because I just stood there and then ran away like a coward. So it looks like I'm not brave enough to die, but not brave enough to live either.

I'm in limbo. Not playing the game, not able to do much of anything to fend for myself, and also not able to die, because I got scared and lost the chance to try and change anything in the world.

My eyes fill with tears. I'd done a really good job at keeping them back since we launched. But the truth is that I'm a failure. I couldn't do the one job I said I was going to from the very beginning. And now that I was struggling to come to terms with my death, God would turn his back on me. He knows that in my heart I don't want to die. In my heart I'm afraid of death, but that's not who He made us to be. He made us to be martyrs in times of adversity, as opposed to fighting back.

Now, I'm left alone, not knowing what I can possibly do to get back on the right path. I feel abandoned and lost. And most of it is my own stupid fault anyways.

I stop the tears from coming and wipe away the ones that had pooled up, trying to escape. I can't afford to think like this. But the truth is that there's nothing I can do to help myself. I've tried to get supplies and failed. I have no place to hide. I'll just be offed easily, if I don't die of thirst first.

 _God provides,_ I try to tell myself. He provides for his people. He provides to allow people to fulfill His will for them. He will help me through this, if that's what I'm supposed to be doing. Although I can't imagine that he would condone me hurting someone else. But I couldn't die, so now how can I be a vessel of His Spirit.

Ugh! I bury my face in my knees. I'd like to say something really angsty, like "I've never felt this alone before." But the truth is that this isn't even the most in the dumps I've ever felt. Guess I'm no stranger to survival after all. I was pretty stubborn about going to the orphanage after my parents kicked me out. I guess that I felt like I had to prove something to my family, to my friends, to God. I guess I just wanted to prove that I was strong to all of them by trying to survive on my own. I thought that somehow I would be glorified for all of my struggles, either on earth or in heaven, when I died, which I was sure that I would die on the streets of District Three. But I didn't. God lead me to where I needed to be, to heal. I learned that we weren't made to go through this life alone, without any help. He lead me to Mr. Hauser's shop, where I was able to get a job and turn my life around. God had put me where He wanted me once before.

But now, I was right back at that place. Feeling completely lonely and abandoned. But this time, instead of just looking to prove a point to me like my parents, my competition wants my life. And I'm just expected to give it to them!? That's what I think I have to do. But I'm not ready to do it.

I scour my brain for any stories I could remember from the Bible, trying to open myself up to listen for God's voice, but in return receive nothing. Absolutely nothing.

 _I really need You,_ I pray silently in my head. _Please give me direction._

I've been praying for weeks, but the longer it is, the less my heart is in it. I just don't know. I don't know.

Suddenly, I hear a slight ping, and watch as a panel in the roof opens up to allow a silver parachute to come in. I can actually feel my eyes widen. What is this? I mean, I know what it is, but I'm just so confused… Did it go into the wrong car!? The three on it makes me wonder, but it's colored with pink and blue. It must be for me… They don't make mistakes.

I hesitantly walk over to the cannister and pop it open with a satisfying noise. When I look inside, I'm shocked by what I see.

 _A knife._ I pick it up, frowning. They must want to see me in with the action, but I know that I can't afford to do that… I could never use it to hurt another person… Whoever sent it obviously has faith in me: that's no cheap feat: but… I don't know… I don't know anything anymore.

I turn the handle in my hand and pull off the note that was tied around it. The note said only one word.

 _Manna._

I read it again. If you told me to guess what it said, that would be my last guess. Manna, the bread of heaven. Food that God provided to his starving people, in the middle of a desert of all places. Why would someone send me this and say manna?

I feel my frown deepen. I shouldn't be ungrateful, but I just simply don't understand what this all means. I take a seat on the ground, up against the cabinet.

 _How am I supposed to use this?_ This was just a waste of time and money on Wiress's part. I take a deep breath, trying to find it in me to smile and thank her. But this isn't going to help me right now, I have nothing. And the last thing I want to do is hunt for another person. And I doubt there's going to be an animal on this train either. Like I could even make a fire to cook it, the oven is jammed just like the rest of them.

 _Wait a minute._

Before another second passes, I'm up on my feet. I tug on one of the drawers, and it barely gives. I put the blade of the knife up against the opening. I push down, trying my best to wedge the weapon into the drawer. With a little bit of elbow grease, the weapon breaks whatever seal was on it. I push the handle upward, using the knife as a lever. Sure enough, the drawer pops, and slides open.

 _Praise Jesus._ The drawer has bags of food in it. I don't hesitate to open one of them: a bag of nuts: and eat. The food tastes so good to me, after a whole day of barely eating anything at all. I only eat about half before closing the bag. I know better than to put it back in the drawer: nobody needs to know that I'm here if I can find a place to hide: and close the drawer.

My knife is now bent a little, so I try (as carefully as I can) to use my body weight to re-flatten it, but standing on the handle with one foot and the knife with the other. It takes a few tries and I almost lose my balance and get in major trouble, but somehow but the mercy of the Lord I manage to get it almost straight again.

Once that's figured out, I look to the sink.

First, I try to skewer the cork with my knife, which doesn't work. Then, I cut off the excess hanging out and try again. Nope, it's been jammed up there. I make a face, but now that I'm so close to survival I'm not going to give up.

I start stabbing the knife through the cork as much as I can: over and over again I try to work it, until I've shaved it down as far as my knife could go up in the faucet. I cross my fingers, and turn on the water. I can hear something going on, but nothing comes out. I sigh a little bit. It was a good try.

Suddenly, the tiny, shaved part of the cork comes flying out of the faucet, along with a rush of cool water. I hurry up and drink, taking only a second to wash my face before I turn it off. I feel like the Gamemakers are going to be sparing with the amount of water I'm allowed per day, so I better be smart about it.

While I'm on a roll, I decide to try one last thing. There's a large cabinet, that I was happy to see when I'd first come in because it could be a hiding place. But, of course, it was sealed shut.

I jam my knife in through the tallest section, and surprisingly the blade cuts through the clear sealant that was holding the door shut. I don't have to re-bend it again to get that door open, much to my relief. The cabinet is dark, and empty, but safe. A place to sleep without being right out in the open.

I look back at note for just a moment before putting it back in my pocket.

 _God provides._

This must be a sign that I'm not supposed to give up.

But if I don't give up, what else can I do?

~.~.

 _ **A/N: Good to see you all again with the second day! Uneventful, but tributes are getting the things that they need to survive and some insight on how they're doing. The action is going to pick up soon, though!**_

 _ **CQ: Who do you think is next to die? Sorry these are getting more and more uninspired, lol.**_

 _ **See you for the second night!**_


End file.
